


The Luckiest

by dragonspell



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Genji Shimada, Alpha Jesse McCree, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mental Health Issues, Omega Hanzo Shimada, Slow Burn, anatomy fuckery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 70,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23217898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: A male omega is said to bring good fortune.  A blessing from on high, male omegas are the rarest of all the genders, and the birth of one in the family is a sign of favor from the gods.  As long as the omega is well cared for and happy, the family that he belongs to will prosper greatly throughout his life.  Hanzo has never felt particularly lucky.(Or, if Hanzo had been born as an omega in a traditional family.  Eventual McHanzo.  Some sexual abuse and a warning for slight incest (drunk, mistaken identity).  Also, anatomy fuckery abounds, with male omegas having parts of both sexes)
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 138
Kudos: 597





	1. Luck

A male omega is said to bring good fortune. A blessing from on high, male omegas are the rarest of all the genders, and the birth of one in the family is a sign of favor from the gods. As long as the omega is well cared for and happy, the family that he belongs to will prosper greatly throughout his life. 

Hanzo has never felt particularly lucky. The only thing ‘fortunate’ in Hanzo’s eyes is when the dragons had appeared on his left arm and shoulder when he was five, twisting and twining their intricate lines across his skin to mark him as theirs, as a Shimada. He’d been in training since he was two to prepare for their arrival if they should choose him and it had felt like the fulfillment of his very purpose to notice the blue starting across his skin. The elders had all nodded in agreement when he had been brought before them, pleased at this new mark of distinction. “This is a good sign,” they’d murmured. “Fortune favors us.” 

“A male omega with the dragons, the rarest of honors.”

“Sojiro has done well. The Shimada Clan will prosper under this sign.”

Hanzo had felt proud to see all the elders smiling and for once in harmony with one another because of him. That had been a happy day. He had taken Genji to the gardens and they’d played along the paths and in the water for ages while the adults watched fondly. There had been no lessons, no training, only Hanzo with his little brother and approving nods. 

That day, Hanzo had been lucky.

Male omegas are said to be a balance between the swirling energies of the universe and Hanzo’s birth had been considered a blessing upon the Shimada line. Never before had there been a male omega in the Shimada bloodline. Usually the line only produced alphas and betas—strong, capable warriors for battle. And thus the need for Hanzo’s little brother.

“A male omega is a good sign,” the elders burble to one another, “but an alpha is needed as well.” They all nod sagely as they drift through the house, their feet soundless upon the floor like they hover rather than walk. “Alphas protect the line. The omega will make sure it prospers.”

In Hanzo’s younger years, he hadn’t known what the elders had meant. Throughout most of his childhood, all that he really understood about it is that it somehow meant Genji is allowed to wander around the compound at will, sometimes disappearing on his own for hours, but Hanzo is always watched like a mouse under the gaze of a hawk if he steps foot outside of the confines of the house. It has hardly felt fair—or “lucky” as he is supposed to be. Genji is able to run and play while Hanzo has to stay inside and study. And, if Hanzo is allowed out, he cannot play in the mud like Genji, cannot get himself dirty. His handlers will come and pull him up off the ground, dust him off like a rare vase that has tumbled to the floor but miraculously not broken, muttering about how he wouldn’t want to displease his father, and they will set him back up on his shelf. When Hanzo points out the unfairness of it all, his handlers merely shrug. “Genji is Genji. Hanzo is Hanzo.”

Hanzo is only allowed in the dirt when put there by a sensei during training. Training is painful, but Hanzo enjoys it. It is the only time that he feels that he can be like the other children that he trains with. It is the only time that anyone besides his father or Genji dares to touch him for longer than a second. Hanzo treasures each bruise as a hard-earned trophy. “A Shimada is a Shimada,” his trainers say. “Alpha, beta, or omega.” Hanzo takes the lessons to heart and learns quickly, always applying himself to the utmost of his ability while Genji whines and looks for ways to wiggle out of his studies and earn himself a free afternoon. When Hanzo is old enough, he starts working on how to summon his dragons, earning himself another few hours of training each week. It is worth it.

Sometimes, their father will watch, nodding approvingly if Hanzo lands a good blow or wins a match. Meanwhile, the elders start adding another refrain to their murmurings. “He is healthy and strong,” they say. “This will ensure the future of our line.”

It isn’t until Hanzo is thirteen that he finally understands the meaning behind the words. One of his distant cousins is visiting, an alpha who is slightly older than Hanzo and who is also, as Genji says, ‘cool’. Both Hanzo and Genji have stars in their eyes about their cousin—handsome, strong, ambitious. Daisuke is an asset to the Shimada line: fifteen and already being sent out on missions for the betterment of their clan. He tells Hanzo of some of the missions that he’s been on as they sit on Hanzo’s bed one day. 

It is just them, too. Genji isn’t allowed into the room this time. Daisuke had pronounced Genji “too little” and said that he and Hanzo needed to talk as big kids. He’d shut the door in Genji’s face—gently but firmly—and Hanzo had felt proud enough to burst. He eagerly soaks up all of Daisuke’s tales of valor and honor and feels like a flower in the sun as Daisuke keeps his full attention on Hanzo at all times, making sure that he is entertained by each detail, each twist. Daisuke is handsome and Hanzo would like to be like him someday. He’s honored that Daisuke would pay attention to him like this. None of the other kids will talk with Hanzo at all, only Genji—Genji who is three years younger and so totally clueless about so much.

And then Daisuke kisses him. One moment he is recounting a bit of a mission, Hanzo hanging on his every word, and the next, their lips are pressed together. Hanzo freezes, blinking at Daisuke’s suddenly blurry face, puzzling out the odd feeling of another mouth against his, and a slow blush rises in his cheeks, infusing his entire face with its burn. When Daisuke ends the kiss, Hanzo swiftly turns his head away to hide in his hair, his eyes sticking to the floor. What had just happened? Why would Daisuke do that? “You are a beautiful omega,” Daisuke mutters and lifts Hanzo’s hair away to tuck it behind his ear and bare the side of his face once more. He runs his hand down Hanzo’s arm, fingers pressing against Hanzo’s dragons and leans in to press his nose against Hanzo’s neck. A shiver runs through Hanzo’s body and something oddly warm uncurls inside of him.

Hanzo leaps from the bed, putting distance between himself and Daisuke. The beginning stirrings of panic flail through his limbs but Hanzo refuses to give in, trying to keep himself as calm as possible as he stares at the handsome boy on his bed. At the _alpha_ on his bed. Why had he not considered this before? Why had he been so foolish? Just because Daisuke is a cousin doesn’t mean much; he is far enough removed from Hanzo’s direct bloodline for Hanzo’s body not to recognize him as kin no matter what his mind says. Hanzo grips the ends of his belt and tightens it as the differences between his body and Daisuke’s start to list themselves. 

His cousin has the grace to look abashed. “Sorry,” he apologizes, his eyes dropping down to the floor contritely. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He seems sincere, his handsome face taking on a puppy dog cast, and Hanzo is debating forgiving him—perhaps even letting him steal another kiss; he is handsome and Hanzo has never deliberately kissed anyone—when his father storms into the room, clothes swirling around him like a thundercloud, his face as black as night in anger.

“Hanzo!” Father shouts and roughly grabs Hanzo’s arm to spin him around and force him out of the room. Hanzo stumbles, tripping over Genji and careening into a wall while his cousin stutters terrified apologies. Father seems like a dragon, somehow growing taller even as he stays the same. Hanzo can almost see the smoke rising off of him. “You dare—”

“I wasn’t—I didn’t—!” Daisuke quails as Father advances on him. Fear grips Hanzo’s heart and sparks down to his feet to spur him into moving. 

“Father!” Hanzo shouts and runs back to his father’s side. Father raises a hand to strike Daisuke and Hanzo grabs it before it has a chance to fall, scared about what might happen if Father were to bring it down upon Daisuke’s head. It is within the realm of possibility that Father might kill Daisuke for his transgression and that horrifies Hanzo. He doesn’t want to be responsible for the death of this boy—this brave, handsome, foolish boy—because Hanzo had been too naïve and trusting.

“You!” Sojiro whirls on Hanzo and Hanzo recoils, the same fear that had caused him to dash to Daisuke’s rescue now paralyzing him when facing his father’s anger head on. “Locking yourself in your room with an alpha. Foolish omega! A disgrace! Are you that desperate for an alpha’s attention? You would throw yourself at any alpha that showed a bit of affection? You shame yourself and me. You bring dishonor upon our family!”

Shame curls Hanzo’s shoulders inward and curves his spine. “Father, nothing happened,” he blurts, trying to save himself and Daisuke. It’s mostly the truth. Surely a kiss isn’t that bad of a transgression. People share kisses all the time and nothing ever comes of it. And yes, Daisuke is an alpha, but it isn’t like he is one of the wandering alphas that roam the countryside looking for omegas to prey upon. He’s family, however distantly, and Hanzo had not even considered the fact that he is an alpha before happily inviting Daisuke to sit on his bed. Until Daisuke had kissed him, Hanzo hadn’t even thought that they might be somehow different. “Daisuke didn’t touch me.” The lie comes easier than Hanzo would have thought, springing from his lips. Dishonesty is shameful but if it will save Daisuke’s life, Hanzo will gladly lie some more.

“As well he did not!” Father roars. “What would you have done if you had been bred by the first alpha that had made eyes at you? Baring his offspring regardless of his position? How would that bring prosperity and honor to our clan? You should consider these things before you let yourself be led by lust!”

“Sir, I swear—” Daisuke bleats.

“Get out!” Father yells. “Get out of my house!” Daisuke dashes past them both and clatters into the hallway, forcing Genji out of his way. “Never come back!” Hanzo stares after Daisuke, still scared for his safety, and he feels strong arms wrap around him, lifting him. He struggles, his feet dangling in mid-air, and he is tossed onto his bed, thrown around as easily as a doll. Father looms over him, his face twisted into a snarl, and presses Hanzo down with his fists clenched in Hanzo’s robe. “You will _never_ invite an alpha into your bedroom again unless he has been chosen for you, do you understand? No omega of mine shall debase himself in such a way.” Hanzo nods quickly, ice cold terror pumping through his veins. 

His father swirls away and a tear slides down Hanzo’s cheek, startled out of him. He scrubs it away before anyone has a chance to see but doesn’t dare move until long after his father’s stomping footsteps have made their way down the hallway. 

Hanzo hears a sob and cuts his eyes over to his doorway where Genji is still standing, his chest heaving and his legs trembling. “Hanzo, I—” He cuts himself off, his confession unvoiced as he glances between Hanzo and the direction that their father had disappeared in. 

“Leave,” Hanzo whispers. He cannot handle Genji right now, cannot comfort him. He feels as if the slightest wind might break him and there is nothing left inside of him to give Genji. He knows that Genji is undoubtedly the reason why Father had come into Hanzo’s room, likely brought by a jealous tattletale but it isn’t his fault. Father is right. Hanzo should have been more careful. All of his life he has spent being given only the sparsest of touches from the alphas in his life and he should have been able to figure that out for himself without being told. His teachers are all betas. Surely, Hanzo could have done that math if he had tried.

“Sorry.” Genji wipes his nose with his sleeve and flees, leaving Hanzo alone in his room. 

The world seems a little dimmer than it did before, the possibilities of life fewer.

* * *

Hanzo is quickly given another class to better his education, this one an hour of torture each day that makes him squirm in his seat and his face burn with embarrassment as an old omega gently whispers about all of the changes that will soon happen to his body and how best to prepare for them. She talks about the evils of alphas and how Hanzo must protect himself at all costs, trusting only his father and his brother to have his best intentions at heart and assuming that all others will only want between his legs. A conversation with an alpha, she says, will never be just a conversation, a look never just a simple glance. Everything will have intent behind it and Hanzo must be wary of that intent. Hanzo must remain pure, for the betterment of his clan. Her sibilant hiss informs him of his duty, lays out the path of his life in no uncertain terms and the light shining in Hanzo’s life dims a little more with each word that she says.

There will be no missions for him unless the clan is in dire need. There will be no exploring the countryside. Hanzo will protect the castle and all within as he marries well and produces many heirs, hopefully some of whom will bear the mark of the dragon. Hanzo is to repopulate the Shimada clan. This is his purpose in life. His only purpose in life. This is why he had been born an omega into a shrinking line of alphas and betas.

The dragons should favor those born of a Shimada omega, she tells him, and so Hanzo is to carry as many children as possible to try and ensure the clan’s supremacy. The elders had always called him beautiful, lucky, had laid their old, wrinkled hands fondly upon his cheek as they talked about how he would give birth to prosperity for the Shimada but until then, Hanzo hadn’t known that they had meant that they had meant that birth literally.

How naive he had been. How simple-minded. As a child, he couldn’t have ever conceived of such a fate as he is now faced with. He had dreamt of many things, none of which will be in his future.

She tells him about his heats as well, how he must prepare himself and what he must do, and Hanzo’s eyes grow wide with disbelief. Surely this cannot be true. He cannot be expected to lose his mind every few months and beg for an alpha to give him a child. The old omega’s face does not change as she tells him this, however, does not betray the unfunny joke, just lays out the bare facts and expects Hanzo to memorize them. 

It all sounds horrifying, told to him as if it were nothing more than an inventory list. She lists every way in which his body will change, in how his very personality will be different—how Hanzo will no longer be Hanzo. Hanzo has not cried since he was four but he feels a prickle at the corners of his eyes. He keeps himself as stonefaced as his old omega teacher, for the sake of his pride if nothing else. Surely, it will not be as bad as this. She must exaggerate or that is only how it is for some omegas—the weaker ones.

Hanzo will do better when it is his time, he swears it.

When Hanzo is fifteen, however, he learns that his omega teacher’s dry, factual words had not even begun to come close to conveying the terrible experience that heat is. Hanzo’s first heat sneaks up on him in the middle of the night, sinking in its claws to drag him down to the abyss of hell.

The first heat starts off as a strange warming of his body, a steady ache in his lower half. It pulls Hanzo from his sleep and he blinks up at the ceiling in confusion. At first, he thinks that perhaps he is sick, caught in the beginning throes of some kind of fever for his entire body feels flushed, but then his length stirs against his stomach and his nethers clench in response. _Oh,_ he thinks. He reaches a hand down between his legs, brushing over the throbbing length of his cock and sliding further down to run his fingers through his sensitive folds. He bites his lip at the resulting surge of pleasure and comes away with his fingers thoroughly covered, his lower half completely soaked.

Hanzo rolls himself onto his knees. The sheets beneath him are soaked as well. He must have been leaking the entire night. He hadn’t realized that heats would be so messy. His lip curls in distaste. He hates being messy.

The thought of what he must do in response flies through Hanzo’s head, bouncing along his feverish brain and attempting to catch on anything remotely resembling coherence. He is to inform an omega staff member so that some aids might be gathered and his quarters moved to the more secure side of the house that contains the heat room. His father and brother are to be appropriately apprised of his condition and guards posted outside his door to prevent any prowling alphas from making it to him lest the blood line possibly be tainted with an out of wedlock child of inferior stock. 

Hanzo means to do this. He does. It’s just that the empty ache inside of him is too much to resist. Raw need is stabbing deep into his guts, twisting them into a need that feels like a wound. Surely, a little bit of fingering before he gets up will be acceptable, he thinks. Nothing that he hasn’t done before. Just a little something to ease the ache inside of him and allow him to have some dignity when he informs the staff of what had happened—and requests new linens for his bed.

What a stupid naïve thought he will think later.

He rolls himself back into the wet spot that he had made in his sleep, figuring that since it is already soaked, it doesn’t matter how much more he leaks, and carefully inserts a finger into himself—in the hole that sits below his cock. His pussy. Hanzo shivers as he pushes in deeper. This isn’t the first time that he’s explored his own body, played with its reactions, but it is the first time that he’s ever felt actively sucked in, his hole sucking at his finger like it is greedy for more. It’s the first time that he’s ever been so wet—and the first time that one finger hasn’t been enough. Driven by a previously unknown need, he puts a second one in and then pumps them slowly in and out of himself. It is a poor mimicry of what he wants, but enough to get his hips involuntarily twitching, in sync with his fingers.

The ache worsens. The fever of his heat steadily takes over his brain, demanding more and more with each passing second, and the slow thrust of Hanzo’s fingers gradually increases until he is roughly shoving them in and out of himself—but it isn’t enough. He wraps his other hand around his cock and strokes it and it is the best and worst decision of his short life. The smolder inside of him flares into an all out fire and Hanzo cannot stop himself.

He comes almost immediately, legs twisting in the sheets, hips helplessly pumping as both of his genitals spasm, his cock spurting a bit of white across his chest while his pussy clamps down hard on his pruning fingers. He’s panting, unable to get enough air, his sensitive skin twitching at just the feeling of a small breeze, and all his small little concession to himself ultimately nets him is an even deeper ache and a need to do it all over again. Even though he had come, nothing has eased inside of him and he feels even more desperate.

A maid finds him a little later, his legs spread whorishly wide as he shamelessly tries to insert his entire hand into himself, coming again and again and again. All thoughts of anything besides attending to the need inside of himself, trying to fill the emptiness, has been tossed aside. He’s quickly locked away in his room, some supplies given to him, but nothing helps. Hanzo feels like he is burning alive and that there isn’t enough water in the world to cool him.

Afterward, when the worst of his heat has passed and Hanzo is left only with an empty womb and a lingering sense of shame, his father gives him a lecture about responsibility and duty. Hanzo sits on the ruined bed sheets, his hair limp and dirty, and his entire body exhausted as he listens. There are the usual warnings about the evils that alphas can commit while under the thrall of an omega’s heat, the chastisements about how Hanzo needs to protect himself, and an additional weight of guilt tossed his way when his father starts in on how Genji is still too young to control his alpha-instincts and how dangerously fond he is of running into his older brother’s bedroom for little reason.

Hanzo nods and accepts it all, his head hanging low. He vows that he will do better next time because his father is right. He might have brought shame upon his family. What if some stray alpha had smelled Hanzo’s heat and jumped the fence to let himself into Hanzo’s room and helped himself to what lies between Hanzo’s legs? Hanzo doubts he would have been able to resist. He would have welcomed the presence of a knot to ease the emptiness inside of him, no matter who it belonged to.

And Genji. Hanzo carefully does not think about Genji. He only informs his little brother that from now on, he will have to knock and be given permission before being allowed to enter, as their father has instructed them to do all along. This time, Genji does not protest the restriction, but solemnly nods his head and respects Hanzo’s wishes.

Hanzo has to do better next time.

* * *

Life proceeds on mostly as it did before though now Hanzo is intimately aware of the ticking bomb that lies within his body, all set to go off and force his body to betray him. He no longer questions Genji being allowed to roam free while he himself is confined. Hanzo has proven that he is not to be trusted just yet. He hopes that one day he will manage control but until he does, he does not object to his father’s directive that he stay within the main compound.

Father also more strictly regulates who is allowed in to the compound and who works where—not only all of Hanzo’s teachers, but most of the staff as well. The guards of the house are all betas now with a few omegas. The alphas are restricted to outside areas only and Hanzo knows that it is directly because of him. He is unable to follow simple orders, unable to control himself, and so his father must take measures to protect him. It makes him to flush with shame to think of it. He hates the implied weakness. Still, he holds his head high and continues on because that is what is expected of him.

Hanzo is no longer allowed to leave the family compound for any reason. Father and Genji still do, though, whether for training or for play. He watches them go with envious eyes but doesn’t dare ask otherwise. He knows what the answer will be and why. The old omega tells him that he has joined a long line of proud Shimada omegas and that he has the noble task of looking over the household while his father and brother take care of business outside but try as he might, Hanzo can’t quite feel the pride in his assigned task that knows his teacher hopes for. He still longs to see the outside world even as it slowly fades in his memories.

Hanzo is afraid that before long, he won’t remember anything of the outside world. It will merely be an abstract concept for him rather than a concrete reality.

When Father and Genji are gone, Hanzo is left behind with no less than two guards personally following him at all times in addition to the normal postings. Hanzo tries to ignore their presence but it is difficult. The words in the books that he attempts to read swirl and bend and don’t make sense because all they want to do is reach towards the guards that are not allowed to leave the room unless he does. 

“I will not go anywhere,” Hanzo says one day, upon his fifth attempt to read the first sentence of the book in front of him. He means it. Hanzo will not move an inch from this spot in the guards were to simply step outside the room to do their duty. He will stay here until nightfall if that is what they want. 

The guards nod and stay where they are, evidently taking Hanzo’s words as a statement of intent rather than the implied wish to be alone for a single waking minute. Hanzo sighs and bend his head back to the pages he has been assigned, struggling through the crawling of his skin as best as he is able. At this rate, he will never make it through his Chemistry course.

Training helps. Hanzo is used to being watched during training and sometimes one of his teachers is there to distract him. He throws himself into every minute of physical training that he is allowed, learning and perfecting every discipline offered. It isn’t as if he doesn’t have the time. Lately, everyone seems to be gone all the time, leaving him alone, just himself and all the betas and omegas that Father pays to keep him safe.

Eventually, he settles into a routine, that whenever Father and Genji leave, he trains for the majority of the time it takes them to come back. It helps to pass the time. A few of his teachers commend him for his dedication and Hanzo graciously accepts the compliment that he does not deserve. 

When his heat rolls around again—far sooner than Hanzo would have liked—he immediately follows his father’s instructions to the letter. Since the last time, he has been monitoring his body carefully, acutely aware of his symptoms, and this heat does not come as a surprise. He had informed a staff member the night before that he believed that he would be in heat by morning and he and the staff had prepared appropriately. 

He awakens in the secure confines of the heat room to a familiar fire burning inside of him and knows that he’d been right. He takes his supplements and drinks the water that has been provided, then eats a bit of the breakfast that had been slipped into the room in the predawn hours. As prepared as he can be, he finally turns his attention to the line of tools that have been set out for him, each placed precisely and neatly despite the messy activity that they are intended for. He carefully sheds his clothes, painstakingly folding them and setting each upon a chair in a small pile. The process feels like a ritual. 

Once he is naked, he selects one of the tools. It is a slick white rod that while somewhat thick at the base tapers to a thin point so as to ease himself into the stretch he will require. Lubricant has been provided also, but a quick swipe through his folds tell Hanzo that it won’t be necessary. 

He lies back on the bed with his legs spread and awkwardly inserts one of end of the toy into himself. The slick rod slides against the bottom of his hole in a rather pleasing way, but it isn’t nearly thick enough to ease the ache inside of him, so he pushes the toy in a little deeper to get the increasing girth to give him what he needs. He slowly strokes his cock with his other hand and tilts his head back to look at the bland ceiling, wondering if his heat will be better this time.

Within a few minutes, Hanzo has sunk nearly the entire toy into himself and is in danger of losing it and it still isn’t enough. His cock twitches on his stomach, making a mess along his skin and demanding attention, as his pussy begs to be filled with more than just a bit of plastic. Hanzo tosses the toy aside, dismissing it as worthless, and rises to get another, this time selecting a light blue one that starts off appropriately large and grows even larger from there. He works it into himself and moans at the welcome feeling of being filled.

His hands skate down his chest, pressing against his skin for the illusion of contact, then he brings them back up to pinch and pull at his nipples, having learned from the last time how sensitive they can be. For half a second, it is good. For half a second, Hanzo’s knees spread in a way that make his entire body hum in approval, and his toes curl at the feeling of having the thick toy inside of himself and his nipples played with. Hanzo moans and squirms on the bed, driven by a need to move, to be an active participant in his mating, but all of his moving causes the toy to accidentally slip out as there is no knot to hold it in place. Hanzo’s moan turns to a whine of dismay and he reaches down to remedy the situation, putting the toy back inside of himself. The thrust provides something that Hanzo had been missing, and he drives it inside of himself again and again. 

In the end, however, the lack of a knot, only the tease of one, causes Hanzo to toss the toy aside and whimper his frustration. He likes the feel of the toy fucking in and out of his pussy, but he needs a knot to truly satisfy what he is craving.

Hours later, all of the provided tools have been similarly discarded, scattered along the floor and wet with his slick because not a one had been what he had needed. They are all a lie, the illusion of relief when they have been designed to leave him unsatisfied in some way. He’s resorted to his fingers, shoving them into his aching pussy over and over again. Every now and then, he crawls to where a toy sits forgotten and, desperate to sate his heat, uses it on himself again, but the toys only provide a momentary reprieve.

Once again, despite all of his preparations, Hanzo is still left a whining, dripping mess, burning alive from the inside out. Base, lewd and out of control. 

The moment that the fever pitch of his heat breaks, Hanzo throws a robe over himself to just barely clothe himself and crawls out of the room to drags himself back to the comfort of his normal life. He bathes himself silently, attempting to wash off his humiliation and the stench of such vulgar behavior. His body is filthy, covered in his own come and sweat and he scrubs at his skin until he feels raw. His stomach churns with bile. When he dresses again, each layer feels like a bit of protection against the outside world, a piece of armor to help him fight. Only, his enemy is not out in the world, but rather is inside of himself. Hanzo covers his mouth to hold back the pathetic noises that want to emerge until he is himself again.

At dinner the next day, Father carefully avoids making eye contact and delicately suggests that perhaps Hanzo learn to control his noises during his heat and not just after. Hanzo flushes bright red and Genji’s fork clatters onto his plate. Hanzo had been unaware that he had been so loud. The whole house must have known. “Yes, Father,” Hanzo replies, as is expected of him, his voice barely above a whisper.

* * *

Hanzo throws himself into his studies again, wanting his father’s approval to make up for disappointing him once more. Gaining it has never been easy, but Hanzo seems to recall it not being as difficult when he was younger. Where before, he only had to demonstrate knowledge, now he must competently show mastery to gain that approving nod of his father’s. Instead of landing one arrow dead-on, he has to land all that he shoots. Instead of knowing a piece of history, he has to be aware of all of it, and so on.

The elders still burble their statements about how Hanzo is good fortune and that he will bring them prosperity, but Hanzo ignores them. He can win their approval simply by being on his back at the right time. His father’s is harder to earn.

Whether through his diligence or the quiet murmurings of an elder, Hanzo does gain one concession for his pains: a small bit of privacy (“as is proper for a maturing omega” as one great uncle had phrased it). His ever-present watchers disappear, dissolving into an increased presence along the compound’s borders and walls. Hanzo breathes a small sigh of relief at their absence and vows to keep it that way, to not give his father any excuse to bring them back. His great uncle smiles at him when Hanzo tells him as much. “You bring such honor to the Shimada clan,” the uncle says and gently pets Hanzo’s hair before floating off.

Though he is still confined to the compound, Hanzo feels as if he has been released from prison. He heads up to the roof, a place he hasn’t dared to visit in over a year, and sits upon the curve, staring out over the rest of the castle and the hint of the city beyond it. He will make his father proud.

The cool breeze washes over his face like an old friend and Hanzo feels himself start to relax, bit by bit, releasing tension that he hadn’t realized that he had been holding.

Genji finds him an hour later, climbing out onto the roof after him. “Here you are,” he says with a laugh. “I was wondering where you were hiding.” He sits down next to Hanzo and looks out at the view. “It has been a long time since we have been up here together.”

Hanzo catches a wild lock of hair as it attempts to cover his eyes and pushes it back behind his ear. “It has been a long time since I haven’t had two full time caretakers afraid I might break a limb,” he replies and then grimaces at the bitterness in his own voice. He will need to school his emotions much better in the future.

Genji winces in sympathy. “Yeah. That was pretty dumb, having those guys follow you around all the time.”

They carefully do not talk about _why_ the guards had been following Hanzo around. Instead, they talk about the weather, yesterday’s training, and the math lesson that Genji had definitely ducked out of this morning. Genji also talks about his last trip beyond the castle walls and Hanzo feels a sadness slide slowly over his heart as he is reminded of how different their lives are already shaping up to be—and how much more different they will be in the future, when Genji leads the clan in Father’s place, maintaining all of the clan’s various business dealings while Hanzo will stay behind these walls forever more. The old omega has taken to telling him tales of Shimada omegas, how they were all like flowers in a secret garden, their beauty for only a select few.

Hanzo wishes he had been born an alpha. Everyone says that male omegas are the luckiest, but to Hanzo, it appears that alphas have it far better. 

He dreads the return of his heat knowing that it, more than anything, has the power to make his life miserable. To him, heats are a curse rather than the gift the elders would have him believe them to be. He knows them to be something shameful to be dealt with, to hide away lest someone find out how disgraceful they truly is and he bring dishonor upon his family. It is so hard to control himself, to be dignified when caught up in the throes of a heat. When the time comes, he must use all of his willpower so as to not disappoint his father again.

He suffers through his third heat the same as the last two, but this time, when it become painfully obvious that he cannot remain quiet, he gags himself with a pillow, pressing it to his mouth to muffle his lewd noises. 

Hopefully this time, he will not be as embarrassing.

After his third heat ends, he slides silently into place for dinner. Genji is oblivious beside him, talking and laughing about a game that he went to over the weekend. When Genji’s story is over, Father nods approvingly and then turns to Hanzo. A small eternity seems to pass in the moment that Father takes to pause and Hanzo doesn’t dare to breathe or even look up, keeping his eyes on his plate as he waits. Father quietly comments that perhaps Hanzo would like a bath and that one could be drawn up for him. Blood rushes past Hanzo’s ears as he flushes in mortification. The knowledge that all of his scrubbing hadn’t been appropriately thorough burns through Hanzo’s insides, especially when Genji stares at him with wide eyes and sniffs, his nostrils flaring. 

Hanzo excuses himself and spends the next two hours carefully rescrubbing every last inch of himself, wishing that he could wash away his heats entirely, not just their smell but all that they bring with them, the desperation, the shame, the dishonor. He would like to see his heats disappear down the drain forever.

He wishes again that he’d been born an alpha like Genji, or at least a beta, so that he would not have to deal with the humiliation of heats. So much for being lucky.

Nothing seems to satisfy the heats, either. Each one is progressively worse, the emptiness and the longing growing each time a heat seizes Hanzo in its claws, sinking its poison into him.

In between his fourth and fifth heats, when Hanzo is seventeen, he stumbles across Keiko and Haru taking a break from their chores and a possible solution to Hanzo’s heats flitters past him. So certain that they are alone, they talk about contacting one of the different modern heat partner services to provide relief as if it were phoning for a pizza delivery or a repairman. Hanzo’s ears burn at their casualness but his curiosity keeps him still. Not a one has seen him yet so he slinks back around the corner and flattens himself to the wall. He doesn’t dare to make a sound, wanting to hear more about this practice that he had not considered before. 

“It was the best decision I ever made,” Haru says, confidently. “They really took care of me.”

“You weren’t worried about the alpha getting you pregnant?” Keiko asks, her shy voice whispering along the walls.

Haru shakes his head. “No, they’re all on birth control. It’s regulated. I mean, it makes the smell a little off, but considering the alternative? And, they’ve all been trained in ways to satisfy an omega’s heat.”

“Without bonding?”

“Of course!” Haru laughs. “They wouldn’t be able to have too many clients if they bonded the first one they helped. They’re licensed and everything. Like, I don’t know, doctors. I mean, there are all these standards that they have to keep. You should try it. Really. Best of all, with a willing partner, the heat only takes half as long.”

“Really?” Keiko squeaks.

“Really. You can get back to your life. Who has time for a heat when you’re not mated? Makes no sense.”

Haru, Hanzo thinks, speaks the truth. Heats are a humiliating inconvenience for the unmated. Surely a partner would ease the hardship of Hanzo’s heats. It sounded a bit like heaven, actually.

Haru gives a bit more detail about his experience and Hanzo’s blush spreads to his entire face. Just what exactly was a “reverse cowgirl”? Or “doggy style”?

Hanzo would rather plunge an arrow into his own chest than voice it out loud, but perhaps he wouldn’t mind finding out what some of the euphemisms that Haru is tossing out refer to. Certainly a professional heat servicer would be able to tell him.

Or show him.

And if heat partners were as professional as Haru claimed, perhaps they would be an acceptable compromise to help ease the horror of Hanzo’s heats. No bonding, no pregnancy, just a procedure to help ease Hanzo’s suffering. Surely that would be acceptable?

Shyly, awkwardly, after a little bit of research into the different providers in Hanamura, Hanzo broaches the topic with his father. He blushes as he tries to lay out his arguments but his father dismisses them all with a wave of his hand. “That is for commoners, Hanzo,” his father replies with a judging gaze that brooks no argument. 

Hanzo tries anyway. “Father, I—”

“You have been raised better than that,” his father says flatly. “You may leave.”

“Yes, Father,” Hanzo replies and flees. He heads to one of the high towers and climbs out onto the roof, needing to be alone for at least a little while. In his room, someone would surely find him—Genji, perhaps, or one of the staff. Here, however, he is free to bury his face against his knees and not be Hanzo for a moment.

Father would not even hear him out. Of course he wouldn’t. Hanzo should have known better. As a Shimada, he is expected to handle his problems as they arise, not seek help outside the clan. As an omega, it is his duty to keep himself unsullied—and he should have thought of that as well. A future husband might not think of an omega who had lain with a heat partner, even a professional one, as a worthy mate. Hanzo had been stupid and selfish to even ask.

…It had seemed like a good solution, though. Akin to seeking out a masseuse or a therapist. But his father had said no and Hanzo knows that it would be the height of stupidity to try and bring the subject up again. Father does not change his mind once it is made up. Hanzo will have to suffer through his heats as best as he is able until the day comes when he is mated—likely to an alpha that he has never met before.

What a future to look forward to.

* * *

Hanzo’s next heat introduces a new torture, a skin sensitivity that makes Hanzo unable to bear most fabrics. He craves only the touch of skin and little else satisfies. His clothes, the bed, the linens, the floor, each feels rough and abrasive on Hanzo’s skin and little can be done to take Hanzo’s mind off of it. He brutalizes himself with the toys provided, savaging his little pussy with the thickest things he can find—his ass too, using gobs of the provided lube—and strips his cock until he cannot bare to touch it anymore. All it does it make him want to beg for a non-existent alpha to give him a knot.

He is shameless in his displays, spreading his legs as far as he can and baring himself to the room as he fantasizes about an alpha—any alpha—finding him. Perhaps one of the guards wandering in from the gatehouse, lured by his nose, or a young associate of Father’s, here for business but drawn off course as he feels Hanzo’s need. 

He emerges from the heat room after a few days, barely able to walk, his insides sore, and hobbles to his own room to rest in comfort. At least the skin sensitivity has eased since the breaking of his fever. He misses dinner, too worn out to attend, and sleeps through breakfast the next day. 

The next time they meet, Hanzo’s father makes it a point to extol the virtues of restraint because of course he does. A bit of resentment grows in Hanzo’s breast, but he ruthlessly squashes it before it can show on his face. He has finally come to the realization that his father, for all of his intelligence, will most likely never be able to understand the all-encompassing, overwhelming feel of a heat, the pain and desperation that comes with it—the _loneliness_ —nor will he want to. He simply wants Hanzo to handle it on his own with the least amount of disturbance and cares little for how Hanzo feels about that. “I understand, Father,” Hanzo replies and plans to do nothing with the useless bit of advice. He doubts that he would be able to hold himself back anyway.

His next few heats are equally as terrible, but Hanzo takes pains not to show that fact once he emerges from the heat room. Though he loathes the very idea of it, he takes a little extra time after his heat breaks to spend in isolation in the heat room, waiting at least half a day or more before seeking the comfort of his own bed in order to try and restore himself enough to pretend normalcy. When he finally makes his way down the hall, he is able to walk plainly, ignoring the lingering ache in his lower half. To all outside eyes, it appears as if Hanzo’s heats are only mildly longer than they had been before, certainly not uncommon as an omega ages though Hanzo has his suspicions that his reasons have a lot in common with that of other omegas than polite society would like to think. He is willing to bet that plenty of upper class omegas through the centuries had been pulling the same charade in order to pretend that their heats were acceptable and not at all the horrid, embarrassing, lewd displays of the commoners.

His father’s comments stop and Hanzo considers it time well spent, despite how much he hates staying any longer in the room than he has to. It is lonely in the heat room, making his otherness that much more stark, but if it means that his father is back to smiling at him once more, than Hanzo will stay in the room for as long as it takes. 

As pleased as his father is to remain oblivious, however, Genji is the opposite. He catches Hanzo making his way back to his room one day and sees right through Hanzo’s act. “Anija,” he says, concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”

Hanzo levels a look at Genji, trying to figure out if the question is a serious inquiry about his health or something more akin to their father’s pointed comments but Genji’s green hair answers Hanzo’s unspoken question for him. Genji doesn’t have a subtle bone in his body. “I am fine,” he rasps and tries to make his way past.

Genji latches onto his side, lifting one of Hanzo’s arms over his shoulder and the sudden bit of touch after spending so much time being denied is enough to make Hanzo stumble. His skin is still sore from its oversensitivity but Genji’s warm fingers around his wrist is comforting. “No you are not,” Genji replies. “Let me help you.”

“I can make it on my own,” Hanzo tries to argue. He has been doing this for years without Genji noticing, after all. What is one more time? What is hundreds?

“You can let me help you, too,” Genji fires back, as stubborn as a boulder. Hanzo sighs and lets him have his way. Once Genji has made up his mind about something, it would be easier to shut off the sun than to make him change it.

Genji helps Hanzo to his room and then refuses to leave, curling up next to him as he had done when they were children, running his fingers through Hanzo’s loose hair. It feels so nice, making Hanzo remember a time before his heats, that he doesn’t want it to end. He allows the touch, saying nothing as he lets Genji pet him. Time seems to float away, becoming meaningless, and Hanzo wishes that he could stay right here for the rest of his life. That would make him truly lucky.

“Was this a difficult one?” Genji asks quietly.

Hanzo frowns, not wanting to leave the comfortable cocoon that he’s found himself in. “Hmm,” he says and continues to float. It occurs to him that this is the first time in a long time that someone has touched him outside of correcting his stance during practice. His eyes drift open. Might that be a reason why his heats are so bad?

Genji, of course, can never leave anything alone. He always has to push harder, dig deeper. “Are they always this difficult?” he asks.

Hanzo is too tired to pretend, drawn in by the feeling of simple human touch and the fact that this is his little brother. He doesn’t want to lie to Genji. “Yes,” he answers honestly.

“Oh,” Genji replies and surprisingly lets it drop. He stays there for as long as Hanzo lets him, silently petting Hanzo’s hair until the sun disappears over the horizon.

A few months later, the scene repeats itself. Genji finds Hanzo again after the next heat, this time quietly entering his room and sitting down beside him. He strokes Hanzo’s hair and his back and Hanzo closes his eyes, a sense of peace settling over him. It makes Hanzo feel a little less alone in the world, like maybe his heats aren’t as hellish as he has been thinking. Something to look forward to, at least, after his ordeal.

“Hanzo,” Genji says eventually. “Maybe you should get a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? Would that help you through this? Many omegas I talk to say that it is better with a partner.”

Hanzo’s eyes flutter open. “Do you talk to many omegas?” he asks because of Genji’s entire question, that had been the safest part to engage. He looks up at Genji’s face to see his brother’s flush.

“Not too many,” Genji confesses shyly, “but some. I started…asking. After the last time.”

“You what?” Hanzo’s blood turns to ice in his veins. Just how many of his secrets had Genji been sharing?

“Not like that!” Genji protests, his hand stilling on Hanzo’s hair. “Not like I was asking for you! They all thought that I was just curious.” He glances away as the red in his face grows more pronounced. “And one might have thought that I was propositioning her.” He resumes the petting motion that he had been doing earlier. “No one from the castle, of course,” he says quietly.

Hanzo’s panic dissipates, thinning with each easy stroke of Genji’s hand until it disappears entirely. “Hmm,” he says. He knows that his heats would be easier with a partner. He also knows that his father would never allow it.

“Well?” Hanzo pretends not to hear the prompt for an answer and Genji pokes his cheek. “Hanzo.”

“Father would not allow it,” Hanzo answers. He hopes that it will suffice because he does not feel like explaining to Genji the fundamental differences between them and how much freedom they each are allowed because of it.

“Because you are an omega?” Genji asks, his youthful naivety on display, and Hanzo sighs.

“Yes.” Dating. Hanzo could only imagine the reaction that Father would have to Hanzo wanting to date—the pure male omega whose sole life purpose is to remain chaste until he can be bred by a powerful alpha and produce many powerful, legitimate heirs for the Shimada line. Anyone that Hanzo showed an interest in would likely find themselves beheaded or castrated within the week.

“That’s bullshit.” Hanzo’s shrugs. He doesn’t disagree with Genji’s assessment, but it isn’t his place to argue, either.

“So what are you supposed to do, stay locked up here until you are old and gray?”

Hanzo wants to return to a few minutes ago when Genji had been peacefully stroking his hair and not interrogating him with his alpha privilege. “Genji.” 

“You can’t be happy with that, Hanzo.” 

What Hanzo will be happy with or unhappy with is irrelevant. “Can we not talk about this now?” Hanzo asks. He’s not ashamed to let his face fall into exaggerated weakness in a blatant attempt to get Genji to move on.

Genji scowls. “Okay,” he says and for several long, wonderful minutes he resumes quietly petting Hanzo’s hair. Hanzo feels like he’s floating. Then Genji lifts his hand away again. “What about a professional heat partner? One of the omegas mentioned that as well.”

With a sigh, Hanzo rolls onto his side and faces the opposite wall. It is not Genji’s fault. He is like their father. “Father forbids it.”

“You asked him?”

“I am expected to handle my heats on my own.” Hanzo tries to keep the note of bitterness of out of his voice but he doubts that he is entirely successful. A heat partner, while not a true mate, still seems like an excellent compromise to Hanzo. He should have guessed, however, that his father would not allow an alpha to touch him unless it was with a proper bonding ceremony.

“That’s bullshit, too.”

Again, Hanzo doesn’t disagree.

Thankfully, Genji lets the subject drop. He puts his hand back in Hanzo’s hair, letting it stroke across Hanzo’s scalp and down his back and Hanzo eventually drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Genji’s words stick with Hanzo. He mulls them over in the privacy of his own mind, examining them carefully for meaning then turning them and inspecting them again. Genji thinks that Hanzo’s fate is unfair. Of course, Genji is only a child and a willful one at that, so his opinions on this are to be taken with a grain of salt. It would be easier to do so, however, if they didn’t resonant so much with Hanzo’s own thoughts, the ones that he keeps buried deep inside of him, never voicing, barely even acknowledging them.

What would Hanzo’s life be like if he were allowed to leave the compound? If he were allowed to _date_? He doesn’t know how successful he would be at the latter, but would he be more like the omega servants that chatter happily to one another about their lives? Hanzo could do without their lewd casual talk about sex acts and the relative charms of various sexual partners, but he longs for the freedom that they have. Their lives are not dictated by their biology. It does not define them, nor is it their sole purpose for being. No one is tasked with making sure that no alpha besides immediate family or a legitimate husband ever touches them. 

Hanzo would like to be able to wander the streets of the surrounding city, to be one of the omegas that get to leave daily. If only he had been born a beta or an alpha. How proud would his father have been of him then? No heats to shame him, no purity to enshrine, just Hanzo and his ambition to be diligent in his studies. 

His life would have been much, much different. Perhaps his first kiss would not have been a distant relative and perhaps it might have been followed by many others.

That is something that Hanzo would like to try. He would like to kiss someone. He has heard some of the staff talking about kissing, has read about it in books, and in movies kissing is always portrayed as something that can make the earth move—preferably with fireworks in the background. Hanzo’s memory of his first kiss is badly faded and too entangled in what had followed to properly think about, but he seems to remember it being warm.

If Hanzo were allowed out of the compound, perhaps he would be able to find someone willing to kiss him—some stranger that he would never have to meet again if he so chose.

And that, right there, is precisely the reason why his father would never allow it. Sometimes, Hanzo thinks that his father can see directly into his very soul. Even if he does not say so, Father must suspect the things that lie within Hanzo’s heart, knows that sorts of things that Hanzo desires. Many are not honorable.

Still, Hanzo cannot help but want them.

The feelings inside of him grow stronger as he approaches his next heat, the longing always worsening the closer he gets as if his body is trying to propel him to get a mate so that he will not have to spend his heat alone. Hanzo wishes that he could listen to its urgings. He catches himself staring at one of the alpha guards one day. Perched on a roof of the castle as he is, he has an unfettered view of the guard far below at the gate. The darkness of the night hides Hanzo’s wandering eyes but the man below is perfectly framed by the light of the lamp that he is standing beside. The man’s shoulders nicely fill out the shoulders of his suit and the thought of perhaps jumping down beside him and getting to _touch_ those shoulders flitters through Hanzo’s mind. As soon as he thinks it, though, he hears his father’s voice in his mind, deep and rough with rage as it echoes through time, and he turns his head away. 

Hanzo does not have the luxury of having such thoughts. He will spend this heat alone, like he has done with all of the others, longing for a mate and wishing that the emptiness inside of him could be filled.

He slips off the roof and in through a window to wander back to his room. He has only a few nights left to enjoy the comfort of his own bed before he will be forced back into the sterile heat room. He passes by his father’s study on the way and pauses at the light spilling out into the hallway.

“Hanzo,” Father says. “Come here.” Hanzo tilts his head and obeys, entering the room. His father sits at a desk, papers and ledgers spread out in front of him. In his hand, he holds a glass with a few fingers of liquid, the bottle sitting in the far corner of the desk’s surface. “Look at this and tell me what you see.” Father hands Hanzo a ledger with numbers scrawling down the side in precise rows. Hanzo’s brow furls in confusion. He is unsure of what his father is expecting him to say. “What do you see?”

Hanzo licks his lips and looks again. He sees names printed alongside the numbers, some of which are familiar and many of which are not. “Shipping numbers?” he ventures. The few names that he does recognize are that of some of the common couriers that they use and a couple of the distribution centers he has heard his father mention before.

Father takes a sip from his glass and then tips it towards Hanzo. “What else?”

Hanzo looks a third time, studying the numbers and the names and the totals as they appear here and there among the lines. He frowns, his finger slipping under a line to read it carefully, then dropping down to another corresponding one. The numbers should match but they do not. His eyes skim over to the claimed total but the numbers are not adding up to what they should be. 

“Do you see it?” Father asks.

“These numbers don’t seem to be what they should be,” Hanzo answers. At his father’s nod, Hanzo explains some more. “These two should be the same but they’re not. And neither makes up enough for this total.”

“That bastard,” Father snarls and Hanzo’s head jerks up. His father seethes in his chair, clenching the glass so tightly that Hanzo thinks that it might break. “He’s been skimming. He will have to be dealt with.” Father’s eyes cut back to Hanzo. “Do you know what that means? That he will need to be dealt with?” Hanzo nods. Sheltered as he is in the castle, he still knows what happens to those that dare to betray the Shimadas.

“Does this sit right with you? Knowing what will happen to this man?”

Unsure if this is possibly a trick question, Hanzo takes time to consider his answer. It seems as if it should be simple but the fact that his father is asking makes it not. “It does not sit right with me that he would betray us,” he says finally. “He has earned his fate.”

Father smiles. “Good.” Hanzo’s heart swells at the approval, a warm glow radiating in his chest. He hesitantly smiles back. Father shuffles a few of the papers in front of him, gathering them into piles. “We should start you in on learning this shit, too,” he says. “Then you can handle the books for me. You would be good at that.” It would mean more time trapped inside, but Hanzo wants to be useful, especially if it meant that he would be more than an omega waiting to be bred. He would study the books until his eyes bled out if he had to. Perhaps if he did a good enough job, then his future wouldn’t be the path that had been set down in front of him when he was thirteen. Hanzo desperately wishes for it to be so. Father downs the rest of his glass and snags the bottle to pour himself some more. “Then maybe I wouldn’t have to drink so much.” He raises the glass in a toast to Hanzo and takes another long swallow.

Hanzo eyes the bottle when his father sets it back down. He cannot know if it had been a new one at the beginning of the night, but it is more than three quarters gone now. 

“Your mother did that, you know. She was also very good. Had a head for numbers.” Father waves his hand beside his head. “Could immediately see when things weren’t as they should be. You are a lot like her. You should be proud.”

“I, I am,” Hanzo says. He smoothes his hands along his kimono, wiping away the sweat. He’s proud to be compared to his mother, though he doesn’t remember much about her. The way that his father talks about her sometimes makes Hanzo think that she must have been a very strong person, someone worth knowing. Not that Father talks about Mother very much—only when he’s drunk, Hanzo’s found.

“You look like her, too. You more than Genji.” Father smirks and downs another long swallow until the tumbler is empty again. He fills it up, this time to the brim, emptying the bottle. “Genji takes after me. The eyebrows are truly unfortunate.” The bottle topples as he tries to set it on the desk, his unsteady hand knocking it over. It rolls on to the floor. Father waves it away. “Eh, leave it. It’s useless now.” He takes another swallow, looking at Hanzo over the rim, then carefully sets the glass down on the desk, taking much more care with it than he had the bottle. “You do look like her. Must be the omega.” He pushes himself up onto his feet using the desk as a brace and takes a few unsteady steps before finding his stride.

“Come here,” his father says, gesturing for Hanzo to come towards him. When Hanzo does, Father takes the ledger from him and throws it down on top of the rest. Then he turns back to Hanzo and studies him for a moment. His hands cup Hanzo’s face, tilting it slightly. “Same eyes.” His right hand diverts to drag through Hanzo’s hair, the strands sliding between his fingers. “Same hair.” The way that his father is looking at him reminds Hanzo of a wolf looking at prey. His father’s nostrils flare. “Same smell. Especially when you’re this close to your heat. No alpha could ever resist her.”

Embarrassment colors Hanzo’s cheeks. His father can smell his heat from a few days out? Had he always been able to? How much has he known throughout the years?

Father’s left hand trails down over Hanzo’s lips and his chin, descending to his neck and slipping within the fold of his kimono. Hanzo’s eyes cast to the side as his flush deepens. His body trembles, caught between the instinctive need to respond and his desire to please his father—his father who is touching him more intimately than anyone ever has. The wrongness of the moment is clanging inside of Hanzo’s brain but he stays where he is, accepting the touch because it is from his father.

 _His father, the alpha_ , a voice whispers inside of Hanzo. He shoves it away, unwilling to humor its vile insinuation.

Father’s hand dips down to Hanzo’s breast where he cups the rounded curve of the muscle, a finger grazing over Hanzo’s nipple and making him shudder. Father studies where his hand disappears beneath Hanzo’s clothes, his face thoughtful. “Different here.” His other hand drops down to Hanzo’s hip and Hanzo jolts at the touch against his lower half. “Different there, too. But still the same. Same smell, same wetness… Shizuka…” Hanzo swallows at the mention of his mother’s name.

The hand on his hip travels across his body, heading for its center, and Hanzo gasps and grabs it before it can reach its destination. “Father?”

Father snaps his eyes up to meet Hanzo’s once more, reading the terror that Hanzo knows is broadcast clearly on his face. The hands disengage, slipping out of and away from Hanzo’s kimono. For a moment, he and his father merely stare at one another, his father’s eyes wider than normal, his lips slowly drawing downward. 

“You should be married,” his father declares. His voice is almost angry when he says it, biting off the words. “Twenty is a good age for an omega to be married. Maybe too long.” He spins and limps back to the desk to grab up his drink again, tipping it up to take long pulls of the contents, stopping only when he chokes. Sputtering, Father puts the drink back down. He mops at his front then glances up at Hanzo, his eyes narrowing. “Why are you not in bed?”

“I…”

“You should be in bed.” His father stumbles backward, catching himself on the desk and Hanzo is torn between wanting to help him and not wanting to get close again. In the end, he does nothing. His father dismisses him with a rough wave. “Go! To bed with you. Come see me in the morning. An omega at twenty.”

Hanzo backs out of the room, unwilling to take his eyes off his father. His body trembles, still feeling the phantom touches on his chest and hip. When Hanzo reaches the door, he runs, dashing down the hallway to the dubious safety of his room. He shuts the door behind him and for the first time wishes that he could lock it.


	2. Good Fortune

The next morning, Hanzo has himself half-convinced that the whole encounter had been only a nightmare brought on by the stress of his upcoming heat when Genji catches his arm before he enters the kitchen. Hanzo stares at the hand on his arm for a moment before quirking an eyebrow at Genji.

“Don’t go in there,” Genji whispers.

“Why?”

“There are _alphas_ in there.” Genji hisses out the designation and pulls Hanzo back down the hallway. Hanzo blinks.

“Alphas?” Why would there be alphas in the house? Unless they were some of Father’s business associates, but for the past few years, he had taken to meeting them elsewhere. Though, Father had talked about Hanzo taking over some parts of the business last night, hadn’t he? Hanzo seems to remember that, though perhaps that’s the part he dreamed.

“Yes. And they’re talking about marriage. To _you_.” The world rudely chooses that moment to shake beneath Hanzo’s feet—surely that was it. There was no other reason to suddenly lose his balance and need Genji to hold him up. Genji grunts under his weight and sets him back on his feet.

“I didn’t dream it,” Hanzo mumbles.

“Didn’t dream what, a perfect boyfriend? Hanzo, they’re talking bride prices in there.” 

Hanzo nods mutely, his mind spinning. Of course they’re talking bride prices. Father intends to sell him off and Father is a very astute businessman. Why wouldn’t he want to get top dollar for the male omega Shimada heir? Hanzo is rare merchandise, after all.

That’s when the anger sets in. His father is trying to _sell_ him. Hanzo is no _cow_ to be bought and sold as his father pleases. He’s a person and surely his father can’t mean to go through with this, without even consulting Hanzo! The depressing realization that while, yes, he is a person, he is still an omega hits him and Hanzo has to clench his fists to stop himself from lashing out.

He isn’t the one who had _fucked up_ last night, either. He isn’t the man that was so drunk on alcohol that he thought it appropriate to feel up his own son and compare him to his dead wife. How dare the man, Hanzo thinks. This is hardly Hanzo’s fault and now here his father is meeting with alphas and talking about bride prices.

Hanzo carefully peels Genji’s fingers off his arm, taking care not to damage them, and stalks back down the hallway. “Hanzo! Hanzo, wait!” Hanzo opens the door to the kitchen and sees four heads swivel towards him. Nostrils flare and two of the strange men sitting at the table smirk and it’s only then that Hanzo realizes that his heat is less than a day away and maybe he should have put this confrontation off—but the fact that he has to have it at all forces him to carry through it. Who knows, if left alone, Father might select a husband for Hanzo by the time that Hanzo finishes his heat.

“Hanzo,” Father says, smiling. “As you can see, my son is very beautiful.” Genji skids in behind Hanzo, bumping into him. “And this is Genji, my alpha son.”

Two spots of color are dotting Hanzo’s cheeks but there isn’t much that he can do about that at the moment except to ignore them. “You said that you wanted to see me, Father,” Hanzo says evenly.

“I did.” Father sets down his cup of tea and nods at the alphas around the table. The youngest looks to be in his mid-forties while the oldest has enough years for all of his hair to have turned gray. “Some of my friends wanted to meet you.”

“He smells divine, Sojiro,” one of the alphas says. One of the two that smirked, he’s tall and broad-shouldered, with a scar marring his left cheek, dangerously close to his eye. “Is he close to his next heat or does he smell this way all the time?”

“His heat is due to start tomorrow. Isn’t it, Hanzo?” Hanzo’s face burns, unable to believe that his father would talk so openly to these men about something so personal to Hanzo. 

The alpha turns his smirk on Hanzo. “Do you enjoy your heats?”

It’s cowardly and hardly honorable, but Hanzo turns on a heel and strides back out of the kitchen. His fists are clenched at his side because he wants nothing more in the world at this moment than to smash one into the alpha’s self-satisfied, egotistical face. Genji follows after, faithfully dogging Hanzo’s steps.

“Touchy, huh?” he hears behind him.

“He is shy,” Father replies.

“I like it,” another voice rumbles. 

Hanzo slaps his hands over his ears until he makes it back to his room. It doesn’t stop the voices from repeating in his head, so he climbs back into bed and pulls the covers over his head. Perhaps he will for once be as lucky as the elders have always said and when he wakes up, the last few minutes will have been a dream. Genji quietly shuts the door and folds himself onto his knees besides Hanzo’s bed.

“Anija, I’m sorry,” Genji mumbles. Hanzo doesn’t answer and Genji goes silent for a long while. He has nothing to apologize for. It is Father and Hanzo who are the ones that should be sorry, not Genji. Yet here Genji is offering the only apology that Hanzo will likely ever hear. “Why are they all so old?” Genji finally wonders aloud. 

Hanzo flips the blanket down and turns his eyes towards Genji. He’d like to know the answer to that question as well. Surely there is _someone_ that is worthy of bonding him that is not twice his age—or three times in the case of the one alpha. The thought that the old alphas, the ones set in their ways, are the only ones that would want someone as traditionally raised as him sears through Hanzo’s mind but he lets it go with no further thought. It shouldn’t matter to him if he could generate the interest of a younger alpha. He’s not going to be able to pick anyway. And maybe they’ve simply been priced right out of the market.

“Did you see the one that looked like a grandpa?” Genji continues. “Why would he even be looking? He’d probably have a heart attack and die just thinking about it.”

“Genji,” Hanzo protests.

“I’m serious. Some thought needs to be into this! If you’re going to say yes, you don’t want some old man keeling over on top of you the first time that you slip between the sheets, right?”

Hanzo scowls. “I don’t want some old man on top of me at all.”

“Exactly! Who would? The man’s wrinkles probably have wrinkles.” Genji mock-shudders and sticks out his tongue and though he shouldn’t, Hanzo laughs. He hides it behind his hand, but Genji catches it and uses it to fuel his next bit. “If the kids ever wanted to spend time with their father, you’d have to take them to the cemetery. Can you imagine? Meeting kindergarten teachers and he’s this old guy coming in on oxygen.” Genji shakes his head. “No, you can do better, Hanzo. You can do much better.” He slides off his knees and crosses his legs. “A guy like you, I’m sure that you could just pull them in if you wanted. There’s no alpha that would ever turn you down.”

Hanzo doesn’t know if he agrees, but he appreciates the sentiment. “Right,” he drawls. “I would have to beat them off with a stick.”

“Yeah, you would! But not too hard because you don’t want to scare them away.” Genji winks. “Just beat in a little bit of respect. Damn, it would probably make them like you even more.”

Hanzo shakes his head. “Stop.”

Genji keeps right on going. Hanzo doesn’t really mind. It takes his mind off of what is still waiting for him in the kitchen.

* * *

The group of alphas in the kitchen had only been the first of many. Though it briefly stops during Hanzo’s heat, every few days there is a new alpha visiting Father, looking to “pay their respects” or “talk business.”

Each one looks just like the others: old, scarred, and leering at Hanzo like he is a chunk of steak. All of them make Hanzo’s lip curl in disgust, but he still nods politely to the ones that manage to keep their comments to themselves and greet him as politeness demands.

Every now and then, Hanzo sees an alpha make a repeat visit and he wonders if his father is making a decision—and if Hanzo will be included in making that decision. The smirking alpha from the first day comes by no less than three times, each time looking a little smugger than the last and Hanzo has never felt more of a desire to break a man’s face. That one, he avoids whenever he stops by, ducks into nearby rooms or puts himself on the roof, whatever he can to avoid the man’s gaze. It makes his skin crawl to simply be in the same building as the man.

Genji ruthlessly mocks all of Hanzo’s potential suitors, giving them names like “pig-face” and “crab person” and “zombie death-march guy”—the last one on account of how he walked with a dragging limp and looked as if he were not just old but already dead. Few interact with Genji, considering him not terribly important, and only a couple bother to acknowledge Hanzo’s presence if he lets it be known. Most are only there to see Father.

“The one in Father’s study looks worse than the rest of them and that’s saying something.” Genji frowns with exaggerated distaste.

Privately, Hanzo agrees. The man has approximately twenty years on Father—fifty on Hanzo—and is missing half an ear. Not a whole ear, just half of one, like someone had sliced off the top half and left the rest. Out loud, Hanzo says, “He is very wealthy.”

Genji rolls his eyes. “They all are, Anija. _We_ are. Money isn’t important.”

“Spoken like someone who has never had to worry about it.”

“You never have, either,” Genji snorts. Hanzo accepts this truth with a nod of his head. Neither of them have ever known what it is like to be without the luxuries of wealth. Genji rolls to his side. “The other day, Father met with Nikuya.”

“Nikuya?” Hanzo asks softly. He hadn’t seen the man and he’s glad for it. Hanzo has only heard a few things about Nikuya, but none of them have made him want to be within the same zip code as the man.

“Yeah. _The butcher_ is sniffing around for you, Hanzo. You should be more concerned about this.”

Hanzo shakes his head. “What would you have me do?”

“Go to Father. Tell him—”

“Stop.”

“ _Tell him_ ,” Genji repeats, stressing the words as if saying them with more emphasis will make them a better idea, “that you won’t have an alpha like Nikuya.”

“You don’t understand.” Genji will never understand. Just like Father.

“You’re right,” Genji snaps. “I _don’t_ understand! This is your life, Hanzo. You think that you would care more about it.” He rolls onto his front and pushes himself upward. Hanzo doesn’t bother to try and stop him from leaving. To do so would mean more explanations, more things that Genji wouldn’t understand. It would be a waste of time for the both of them.

Hanzo cares. Of course he does. He doesn’t want to end up bonded to an alpha as brutal and ruthless as Nikuya, a man who murders his own family if they disappoint him, but Hanzo suspects that what he wants is immaterial. All that matters is what is good for the clan—its “prosperity”.

Hanzo clenches his fists. Why him? Why had he been born an omega? What had he done in a previous life to deserve this? Surely—

Hanzo tries to scatter the thoughts with a shake of his head. He shouldn’t be thinking such things. It is an honor to be an omega in such a well-to-do family. Lucky. 

If only he could believe it.

Hanzo stands and follows his brother’s earlier exit.

* * *

A gentle wind blows, rustling the trees as it passes by. Hanzo turns his face to it, letting it brush over his skin. He sighs as it fades, likely heading to a less confined space. Hanzo wishes that he could follow it, chasing it across the horizon.

He doesn’t want to leave, of course. Not permanently. That would be unthinkable. He is a Shimada after all and he will do his duty and uphold the honor of his clan. But to have just a few moments outside of the tall walls that surround the castle, that would be a dream. Hanzo still remembers a time when he’d been allowed beyond the gates. Mostly, that had been when his mother had been alive. The memories are now faded with time.

Hanzo wonders if she had ever felt the same as him, confined and stifled by the magnificent prison of the Shimada estate. He doesn’t remember her saying so, but he also doesn’t remember much about her, just her smile and the sound of her voice calling his name.

“Ah, Hanzo-chan. Enjoying the breeze?” Hanzo smothers the urge to jump in surprise and calmly turns as his father joins him. Father holds a hand up to test the air. “But it is gone now. I am sure it will come back.”

Hanzo nods though he is not so certain. His father takes a moment to enjoy the sun, tilting his face up to its warming rays and Hanzo studies him. Hanzo can’t recall when the gray at his father’s temples had come into being, as if it had always been there and yet not at the same time. There are more wrinkles on his father’s face than his memory would have him believe, but all in all, his father is still strong, still sturdy. He is very much a head alpha, fit to lead by example.

“Father.” 

“Hmm?”

Hanzo wets his lips as his father opens his eyes again. He wonders what had possessed him to speak and break the comfortable silence, but here they are. “I heard that Nikuya had come to speak with you.”

Father nods gravely. “He did.” Hanzo pauses, hoping that the silence will speak for him. “I dismissed his proposal. He is unsuitable.” Hanzo feels his shoulders drop and Father shakes his head. “A man like Nikuya, who would so carelessly murder his own blood, is not right for the Shimada clan. His ruthlessness is useful but only to a point. Do you understand?”

Hanzo nods. “A man should be loyal to his family.”

“An alpha should protect his family first and foremost,” his father adds. “Do not worry, Hanzo. We will find you a good match.”

“Of course, Father.” Hanzo pauses again. “I was wondering if I might meet some, before the choice is made?” If perhaps Hanzo could just _see_ who his father is leaning towards…

“When the time comes, I will let you know,” Father says and Hanzo nods again. It is likely the best that he is going to get. There is more that Hanzo wants to ask—what is Father looking for? Are any of them nice? Are any of them under fifty?—but by the time he works up his courage to ask even one of those questions, his father is already turning to go back inside.

Hanzo stays where he is, in the windless air.

* * *

Nikuya doesn’t put in another appearance, but there is still a constant stream of alphas steadily trickling into the compound. The path from the door to Father’s office takes on a new scent, as if the alphas have permeated the very walls. Hanzo hates it. He feels as if the alphas have invaded his very life, making demands upon him when he barely even knows their names.

It’s a relief when Father announces that he has to fly to Europe for a few days. There is some deal that he needs to oversee personally. Many of the elders go with Sojiro, as well, leaving the castle nearly empty. Hanzo is glad for the seeming reprieve from the endless parade of strangers. 

At least until two days in when he hears the pumping bass of Genji’s music blasting out of the living room and there are strangers wandering through the castle. Security is clearly not amused, hovering here and there and Hanzo ducks one of the guards that he is certain is looking for him. Genji is not supposed to have friends over, especially not these kind, but with Father gone, he likely doesn’t feel the need to adhere to that restriction.

A couple of betas are dancing to the music, drinks in hand as they swing about, dodging furniture and other people. Genji himself is sprawled upon the couch, ridiculous striped glasses perched on his face, entertaining two clearly older alphas. Hanzo’s heart leaps into his throat, the fear that’s been driven into him of being alone with an alpha making him worry about Genji before he remembers that Genji is an alpha. He will be fine.

“Wow, you’re gorgeous,” a masculine voice slurs behind Hanzo. Hanzo spins and flattens himself to the wall. The scent of booze and alpha reaches him, washing over him in waves, both smells thickly wafting off of the man now in front of him. The alpha is just newly emerged from boyhood, perhaps around Hanzo’s age give or take a year, his body still gaining its adult mass but his scent is strong. Hanzo slides his fingers over the wall behind him, steadying himself as he sways on his feet. 

Clearly a part of Genji’s crowd if the blue hair is anything to go by, the strange boy smiles dumbly at Hanzo and moves closer until he is nearly on top of Hanzo. His scent is stronger now and Hanzo should be running, should be fighting, should be doing something other than stupidly staring. “Where have you been hiding all of my life?”

 _Here_ , Hanzo thinks, even though he believes the man isn’t expecting an answer to his question.

The man is…attractive. Not beautiful by any means but definitely attractive. Hanzo swallows as he lets his eyes travel over the man’s body while the man gazes right back. “Damn, you’re hot,” the alpha mutters and downs the rest of the contents of his plastic cup before tossing it onto the floor. Hanzo’s line of sight follows the cup, an inane thought that he should pick it up drifting through his brain. The alpha slides even closer, so that Hanzo can feel the heat coming off of him. One large paw raises and gently holds Hanzo’s face, thumb swiping over his cheek. This is the closest he has been to an alpha that isn’t immediate family since Daisuke but his body apparently knows how to respond. Desire stabs into Hanzo’s lower stomach, twisting in and suddenly, he’s half-hard and undoubtedly wet. _Ridiculous_ but Hanzo cannot stop himself.

This may be his only chance to finally kiss an alpha his own age of his own volition and that’s a heady thought. Hanzo’s breath stutters and he licks his lips to moisten them. The alpha takes that as his invitation and presses their mouths together. Hanzo pauses for a moment, cataloguing the feel of a mouth against his for the second time in his life, processing the thought of what is happening, and then he surges forward, running his hands up over the alpha’s vulnerable neck to slide into his preposterous hair and gripping it tightly.

“Fuck,” the alpha mumbles and changes the angle of the kiss, opening his mouth to flick his tongue against Hanzo’s lips. Hanzo gasps and the man slips his tongue into Hanzo’s mouth, sloppy and wet. It is one of the most disgusting things that Hanzo has ever let happen to himself but he wants more. He wants so much more. He sucks eagerly on the tongue that the stranger has in his mouth, panting, with a small whine starting up in the back of his throat.

The man breaks off and tips his head to nip at Hanzo’s earlobe. Hanzo’s shudder runs clear down to his toes. “Oh, you want it bad, don’t you, baby?” Hanzo doesn’t bother to answer. He doesn’t think that he’s required to at this point. He just clutches at the alpha’s shoulders and presses his own lips hesitantly to the alpha’s jaw line, mapping the defined edge of it. The beginnings of a beard rasp against Hanzo’s sensitive skin and Hanzo’s heart races.

This is forbidden. If Father were home, Hanzo would surely be punished for this transgression and this silly, drunk boy would likely end up being beaten at the very least. Father is not home, though, he is not here to shake his head with disappointment or list all the ways that Hanzo has failed him as an omega who is too weak to control himself. There’s just Hanzo and the man in front of him.

And this is barely more than Father has done himself.

Hanzo kisses his way down the alpha’s neck, nosing at the corner of his popped collar to get at the bare shoulder, and the alpha wraps his arms around Hanzo and pulls him in even closer, warm, tight grip holding Hanzo in place. Hanzo moans and returns his lips to the boy’s mouth as his hands dare to spread across the smooth expanse of the boy’s back. The boy kisses him again, his lips firm and warm against Hanzo’s. “Yeah,” the alpha moans and pushes Hanzo back against the wall.

Questing hands slip beneath Hanzo’s kimono to touch his bare skin and Hanzo’s body thrums in approval, the simple basic pleasure of it going straight to his head. He kisses the boy even more as the boy’s hands part the folds of his robe and delve inside. Clumsy, drunken fingers grope along his breast and pinch his nipples. A spark runs along Hanzo’s spine and buries itself into the center of him. Hanzo gasps and pulls his head away to try and catch his breath while his lungs apparently forget how to draw air. He looks down at where the boy’s hands disappear into his clothes, hears himself whine, high and needy, then he reaches down and undoes his belt to let the kimono gape. He likes seeing the alpha’s hands on him, likes the way that they look sliding over his skin.

A finger tips Hanzo’s head back up for another kiss and Hanzo enthusiastically responds. Spit slides out of the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin, but Hanzo does not care; it just makes his blood heat more.

“Fuck, yeah, you want it,” the alpha says, his voice low and growly in a way that makes Hanzo tremble. “You want my cock, don’t you?” _Yes_ , Hanzo wants to answer, but like all of the other times, he remains silent. The alpha scoops his hands under Hanzo’s ass and squeezes as he molds Hanzo’s hips to his own and Hanzo can feel the solid press of the alpha’s cock beneath his clothes. It rubs against his, then slips underneath as the alpha lifts him a few inches and lets him slide back down the alpha’s body. “I’ve never been with a male omega before. Do you have both?” 

Hands scrabble on Hanzo’s hakama, fumbling with the ties until Hanzo finally helps, pulling them free. A hand delves in, skimming along Hanzo’s thigh and patting down the front of him. Hanzo’s tosses his head back as molten pleasure courses through him. His hips pulse forward, encouraging the man to touch him again. “I can feel your cock, omega,” the alpha whispers. “It seems to like me.”

Oh yes it does, or at least it likes being touched. Hanzo moans as the alpha scrubs a hand across the hard bulge of his cock and curls underneath of it. “Is that your pussy there?” the alpha asks. His fingers dig into the slit beneath Hanzo’s cock, slipping a little between the folds and threatening to press into the hole. “I can feel how wet you are. Want me to put my fingers in there?” Hanzo feverishly kisses along the man’s jawline again as he spreads his legs. His entire lower half throbs, almost painful in its desire, and he parts his legs as much as he is able, bringing up a knee to let the man caress him more fully. “You’re so fucking wet.” The alpha licks along Hanzo’s face. “Fucking soaked.” The man’s wet fingers slip along Hanzo’s thigh, toying with the edge of Hanzo’s underwear, before returning to Hanzo’s crotch and cupping him again. “I bet your cock’s pretty cute, isn’t it? Perfect and little and I could suck on it all day.” 

Hanzo whimpers and the man surges forward, pressing them tighter to the wall. His fingers run along Hanzo’s slit again, tracing the line of it. “Fuck, your pussy... It just wants to be filled, doesn’t it? Some alpha cock? Is that what you want, omega?” Hanzo shudders, lost in the fantasy. He wants to beg the man to put actions to his words, to follow through on these dirty things that he’s whispering in Hanzo’s ear.

Fingers slip under Hanzo’s underwear and delve into the wet center of him, insistently zeroing in on the hole to press inside. The alpha slides into Hanzo easily with all of the slick that Hanzo is gushing, pushing his invading finger up inside of Hanzo. “Fuck,” he whispers and wiggles the finger, petting Hanzo’s inner walls. It’s strange to have the alpha’s finger inside of him—strange and oh so hot to have something besides cold silicone opening him up, a live, warm bit of flesh twitching inside of him. Hanzo can’t seem to breathe anymore, his air coming in short, hitching gasps. He aches with desire, wanting more, and he groans as the alpha pumps the finger inside of him. It’s small but the feel of him sliding over Hanzo’s entrance is close to what he wants.

“Yeah, omega, hold on. Let me get my cock in you.”

Hanzo’s eyes flutter open. He very much would like to feel what an actual alpha cock would be like inside of him, feel the knot stretching him from the inside, but something whispering along his mind tells him that the idea, no matter how hot, would be bad. Hanzo frowns. How could such pleasure ever be bad?

The distant thought of his father flashes through his mind, throwing ice on his arousal. Genji’s in the next room and if he’s oblivious it’s only because of the loud boom of his music. Guards are prowling through the hallways and might happen upon Hanzo at any moment. If they were to catch Hanzo like this, being willingly penetrated by a strange alpha, they would surely tear them apart. Hanzo would be tossed into his room—or worse, the heat room—and locked away until his father could return, his father instantly notified.

And there’s a chance that this ridiculous alpha boy with the blue hair would never leave Hanamura again.

Hanzo can’t have that. He can’t have that on his conscience. He pushes at the alpha’s chest, trying to force him away. The alpha stays put, fumbling with the zipper of his jeans, and Hanzo shoves harder. “No,” Hanzo says, the first word that he has ever spoken to the alpha.

The alpha pauses, confusion on his face. His glances down to where his finger is still inside of Hanzo, then comes back up to Hanzo’s face. “What do you mean ‘no’?

Hanzo sucks in a quick breath. “No. I do not want this.”

The finger inside of him pumps in and out quickly, making Hanzo’s back arch. “Looks like you want it,” the alpha says. “Don’t be a fucking tease.” His pants drop to his knees and he pulls his cock out of his underwear. It’s longer and thicker than any of the toys that Hanzo has been allowed. Hanzo wants it, but he knows that he can’t have it.

“No,” he repeats. He reaches down and shoves at the hand pressed against his nether region. It doesn’t move and an edge of fear tingles along Hanzo’s limbs. “Let me go.”

“Fuck, no,” the alpha snarls. “We’re doing this. You can’t be all for it then start saying ‘no’ when it’s my turn.”

The hell Hanzo can’t. “I said _no_.”

“And I said that I’m putting my cock inside of you.” The alpha pulls the finger out of Hanzo and grabs the crotch of his underwear to shove it to the side. “So shut the fuck up and take it.”

Hanzo’s fist slams into the side of the alpha’s head. The alpha stumbles and brings a hand up to his face. “Fucking _bitch_!” he shouts and lunges for Hanzo. Hanzo steps to the side to let the man lumber past him, then shoves his back so that his momentum carries him into the wall. He smashes face first and bounces off. Hanzo slams a knee into the boy’s chin and watches him crash to the floor, dropping like a brained ox. Hanzo stares, anger and regret coursing through him in equal measure. He can’t believe that he had let the alpha touch him in such a way, that he had been willing and welcoming—and that if the alpha had stopped when Hanzo had asked, Hanzo might have even felt good about it instead of the dirty guilt now crawling along his skin.

“What the hell was that?” Genji asks and Hanzo turns just in time to catch Genji and two others spilling out of the room into the hallway. Hanzo’s clothes are completely disheveled, baring his shame, and there can be no doubt as to what had been taking place. Gathering his clothes around himself, Hanzo feels his face burn. What his brother must think of him now, a whore letting himself get pawed in a hallway by a stranger. “Fuck, Anija…” Genji mutters, his mouth pulling downward in horror. His silly glasses slip down his nose and he doesn’t bother to push them back up.

Hanzo ducks his head, unable to take seeing Genji look at him that way, to know how he has failed once again. His hair thankfully covers his face with a black curtain. His hakama slips away from him, heading back down to his knees, and Hanzo catches it to bring it up again.

“Dude!” one of Genji’s other friends says, the English word spilling easily from his mouth. “That’s your older brother? A male omega? He’s hot!”

One of the betas rushes past the others and kneels down at the fallen alpha’s side. “He’s out cold.”

“Hanzo…” Genji says.

“Don’t tell Father,” Hanzo whispers. Genji’s mouth drops open further, the protest forming on his lips and Hanzo shakes his head violently. He needs Genji to understand this. Genji can’t tell Father. Hanzo would never see the light of day again. And the alpha, jerk though he ended up being, Hanzo doesn’t want to know what would happen to the alpha. “Please. Don’t tell Father. Tell the guards he fell.” He pulls his kimono back up over his shoulders and tightly wraps it around himself. “I think your friends should leave.”

Genji slowly nods and Hanzo allows himself a small bit of relief. “Party’s over, guys,” Genji says, waving his hands at his friends. 

“What?” one protests. “We were just getting started! Where am I supposed to go now?”

“Shut up,” one of the betas snaps, glowering from where she is still kneeling beside the fallen alpha.

“Yeah, it’s time for everyone to go,” Genji tells them. “I’ll call a cab for you or something.” He spins the man around and pushes him down the hall, then turns his head to look at Hanzo. “I’m sorry, Anija. I’ll, uh, I’ll be back.”

Hanzo nods, not sure why Genji’s apologizing but accepting it just the same.

* * *

Hanzo may never sleep again. Guilt prickles along his skin, and pierces deep into his brain. What had he been thinking? Now for all of Hanzo’s caution to try and preserve his image, he has yet another secret to hastily bury deep within himself and hope that no one ever finds it. 

He hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. He hadn’t considered the consequences for his actions, just launched himself into the moment and nevermind the future. And for it to be one of Genji’s party friends… Disgraceful.

The knock on the door is hesitant and shy, like the person on the other side isn’t sure of their welcome and Hanzo sighs as he gets up. It could be one of the security personnel but it is more likely to be his brother, back from showing his friends the way out.

Hanzo opens the door to his room and is not surprised in the least when he finds Genji standing on the other side, sliding his foot against the ground. “Genji…” Hanzo starts, wondering if an apology would ever be enough.

“I’m sorry,” Genji blurts. “Please forgive me.”

Hanzo’s brows draw downward. “Forgive you?” he asks.

“Yes.” Genji nods. “I never should have invited anybody over—especially not an alpha—and I really knew better and Hanzo, I am sorry. Please forgive me.”

“What happened in the hall wasn’t your fault,” Hanzo says, tilting his head. Genji cannot blame himself for Hanzo’s actions. It is Hanzo who is at fault.

“It’s my fault that he was even here,” Genji replies. “If I hadn’t invited him over, then none of this would have happened.”

Hanzo’s heart clenches tightly in his chest and he drops his eyes away. Yes, Hanzo cannot be trusted to control his omega instincts, apparently. The moment that he is alone with an alpha, he feels a need to debase himself utterly. But yet, for all of the guilt and shame roiling inside of Hanzo, there is no _regret_. He’s sorry that once again, he couldn’t manage to live up to his father’s expectations, and fearful that the secret will somehow get out, but Hanzo can’t bring himself to regret the moment. He thinks he might chose the same path if he had it to do over again, though perhaps he would find somewhere a little bit more secluded and appropriate for nudity than a hallway. 

“Hanzo, please say that you forgive me.” Genji clasps his hands together in front of his chest and shakes them as he bows his head in supplication. Hanzo closes his eyes, unable to handle Genji’s sincerity and his desire to help shoulder some of Hanzo’s guilt.

“I should ask you for the same thing,” Hanzo whispers.

“For what?” Genji demands. “For punching him? Shit, Hanzo—”

“I did knock him out.”

“After the bastard fucking molested you in the damn hallway!”

Hanzo’s eyes widened. _Molested?_ That’s hardly the word that Hanzo would use to describe his shameful display of wanton begging. Looking at Genji’s face, Hanzo is hit by the realization that Genji thinks that he had been an unwilling participant in the incident in the hallway, and Hanzo’s shame grows ever larger. “I invited his touch,” Hanzo confesses quietly. He doesn’t want to say the words but he feels that he must. No wonder Genji had been so desperate for Hanzo to forgive him. Hanzo must help unburden Genji’s soul. Yes, the friends should not have been invited over, but Hanzo’s actions after that were not Genji’s fault.

“Anija,” Genji says, “you had to fend him off.”

“Later. At first, I welcomed him.” Hanzo flushes, his embarrassment over his behavior bringing red to his cheeks and all the way down his neck.

“You punched him.”

“When he did not stop when I asked.”

“Then he _did_ molest you,” Genji declares.

“Is it molesting if I wanted it?” Hanzo snaps, embarrassed by the situation and annoyed at Genji’s stubbornness. “If I enjoyed it and would have gladly continued if we had not been in a public hallway?”

“Anija!” Genji’s eyes seem ready to pop out of his head, an range of expressions crossing his face and Hanzo looks away, unable to bear any of them. Hanzo does not need the reminders about the amount of shame he has brought upon his family, the disgracefullness of his actions. Genji’s small giggle snaps him back. Of all of the possible things that could have dropped out of Genji’s mouth, that was not something that Hanzo had been expecting. “Scandalous.”

Hanzo sighs. “Very,” he agrees, because he can’t deny that truth. 

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be touched, Anija,” Genji says, serious again and wrongly placed guilt long forgotten.

Hanzo shakes his head. “For me there is.”

“Hanzo…”

“Father would be disappointed if he knew.”

“Then it is a good thing that he is not here. Not everything you do has to please Father.” And that, right there, is the difference between Genji and Hanzo. Hanzo doesn’t respond to Genji’s statement; there is nothing that he could say that would help Genji to understand what he has no comprehension of. As an alpha, the experience of an omega would be utterly foreign to him. Genji sighs. He reaches out and clasps Hanzo’s hand between his own, holding it tightly. “I am sorry. It will never happen again, Anija, I swear to you. It was irresponsible of me to invite alphas here.”

“Genji…” Hanzo doesn’t know if he wants to hear this. Some part of him withdraws into himself to hear such words come from Genji’s mouth even as he knows that they should still be uttered. It is Genji doing his best to protect Hanzo, Genji being the alpha that he is meant to be. It is Genji reminding Hanzo once again, quite unintentionally, that Hanzo is an omega and that there are different rules for the two of them even if Hanzo wishes differently.

“Dangerous,” Genji adds. Hanzo swallows and drops his gaze. Yes, it had been very dangerous and he had been the reckless fool that had charged in. “I take full responsibility and I wanted you to know that it won’t happen again.” Hanzo nods because it is expected of him and Genji sucks in a quick breath before finishing. “And I told Eiji that I’ll gut him if he breathes a word about what happened.”

Relief lightens Hanzo’s soul for a moment. There is that if nothing else. “At least your friend had been more age appropriate then the alphas Father has been seeking out,” he admits.

Genji laughs, his eyes crinkling. “Very true,” he replies and then thankfully switches the subject.

* * *

Life settles back into its normal routine when Father returns. Fear grips Hanzo’s heart for the first few days, the thought of his and Genji’s new secret coming to light terrifying him, but after a week goes by with nothing out of the ordinary happening, Hanzo finally releases much of his tension. Father still occasionally meets with alphas both familiar and strange, Genji parties obliviously, albeit outside of the family compound now, and Hanzo is trapped within his own house, but it is the status quo as far as Hanzo’s life goes.

Until the day Father calls Hanzo into his office. The mere sight of Father’s study is enough to make him apprehensive these days and Hanzo hates that. He is stronger than this. His father is stronger, too.

Also, Father is sober.

His father waves him in. “Come, come,” he says, his hands encouraging Hanzo to step across the threshold into the office and the shameful thought of offering an excuse not to crosses Hanzo’s mind. He throws it away like the trash that it is and walks into his father’s study. “Nori-san, this is my son, Hanzo.”

Hanzo’s eyes dart to the chair in front of the desk that he had assumed was empty. A woman sits with her legs crossed, suit impeccably pressed. Hanzo’s nostrils instinctively flare, looking to catch a scent of alpha. Has Father made a choice? This woman is nothing like the alphas who have been visiting.

In fact, she isn’t an alpha at all. Beta, Hanzo’s instincts tell him, and a part of him sighs in relief. His heart rate slows to something approaching normal.

“I’m sure that you’ve seen Nori before,” Father says and Hanzo glances at her face again, trying to place her. She has smart, wire-framed glasses that are barely noticeable. “She is one of my lead bookkeepers.” And just like that, Hanzo remembers, flashes of this same beta talking with his father, entering and exiting the house, always official-looking and brisk in her business dealings. Hanzo nods. “You are going to be Nori’s in-house assistant.”

Hanzo blinks. Had he heard that right? “Nori will be teaching you how to keep the books for the Shimada clan.” He had. “A very appropriate task for an omega heir.” The blood rushing past his ears isn’t quite enough to drown out the ‘omega’ but Hanzo finds that he doesn’t care. Something more than dreading the alphas invading his home and waiting for his next heat to ruin his life. He clenches his hands into fists to help contain his excitement, though he wants nothing more than to shout. “You will be starting next week.” Father turns to Nori. “Make sure that he learns all that he needs to.” Nori nods and Father looks back at Hanzo. “You will memorize everything that she tells you.”

Hanzo bows. “Yes, Father. Thank you.” Father dismisses him with a wave.

Maybe he is lucky, just a little bit. A chance to be useful to the clan as more than just an omega seems like a divine favor.

* * *

The next few days pass by quickly, with Nori taking over a few morning slots normally reserved for academics. Hanzo doesn’t mind. He eagerly applies himself, wanting to prove his worthiness to his father, to be useful.

It is after one such session, after Nori has dismissed him for the day, not yet trusting him to be by himself, that he realizes that Father has gained a new business partner—a dark man dressed all in black who moves like water. His heavy boots thud upon the stone with each step, but he looks like he is a moment away from dancing. His face, though, firmly states that he is all business, cast in stone and looking as forgiving as a mountain. There is something off about his presence, making Hanzo’s skin crawl as he looks upon the man and the man looks back at him. There is a curious emptiness where there should be a marker, a lack. Alpha, beta, omega, Hanzo cannot be sure for the man seems to be none. 

The man nods, acknowledging Hanzo’s presence, and Hanzo stands frozen like a rabbit before a wolf, hoping to blend in with the surroundings. He doesn’t dare move until the man’s eyes let him go, slipping away. As he disappears behind the door of Father’s office, Hanzo slides back around the corner, feeling as if he had escaped from a viper.

“Another alpha?” Genji asks, curling his upper lip in disgust. “He looks as cold as the rest of them.”

Hanzo slowly shakes his head. “I do not think so,” he says.

“You don’t think he’s cold?”

“I…” Hanzo pauses as his thoughts tangle inside his head. “I do not think that he is an alpha.” The man hadn’t smelled like an alpha. He hadn’t smelled like anything. 

“Huh,” Genji says and continues on his way down the hallway. If the man is not an alpha, he is not a threat in Genji’s eyes and not worth considering. Hanzo isn’t so sure. His thoughts trouble him all the way to his familiar perch on the roof.

The man had been accompanied by a few others that had remained at the gate, all alphas and evidently not of a high enough status to bypass the defacto alpha ban that the castle is under. Hanzo can smell them, their scent carried to the roof by the gentle breeze—and one of them smells divine. He indulges himself for a moment, letting the scent flow around him, before inching closer to get a better look. Two of the alphas below are dressed in uniform, nearly identical in appearance, but the third catches Hanzo’s eye. He’s tall and dressed in black like his employer but that is where the similarities end. He looks like a botched attempt at a cowboy, ridiculous hat and spurs paired with a heavy armor. Just the sight of him makes Hanzo want to scoff at the ludicrous impossibility of his existence, but yet somehow it works. 

He’s handsome too. Scruffy and chomping on a cigar, but somehow still attractive—and little like his boss. He smiles and chats with the guards at the gate, telling little jokes in his highly accented American voice and while Hanzo doesn’t understand half of what the man says, he likes how the man’s voice sounds, a low, smooth purr that makes Hanzo wish that it was directed at him.

Hanzo wonders what he would sound like with his voice roughened with lust. Wonders if the man would be as smooth as his voice suggests. Wonders if he would find Hanzo as attractive as Hanzo finds him.

Foolish, useless wonderings.

Hanzo indulges them just the same, watching how the wind caresses the man’s hair, how he juts his hip and tilts his head with each joke that he tells. The other two alphas remain stone-faced, apparently allergic to their companion’s irrelevant disposition, but the gate guards have no such immunity, their shoulders relaxing from their usual rigidity as their wariness of the new alpha slowly erodes with each drawled word. 

“Anija,” Genji whispers. “You are spying.” Hanzo nearly falls off the roof.

Genji catches him before he tumbles, laughter in his eyes as he steadies Hanzo, but Hanzo feels nothing but panic. He quickly glances down at the group of alphas, looking to see if his foolishness had been spotted before slipping away to tumble back inside the window. Genji follows him in, seemingly unconcerned about how easily he could be spotted, and Hanzo grabs him, jerking him away from the window. “Hanzo!” Genji protests.

“Don’t tell Father,” Hanzo hisses.

Genji’s brow scrunches up. “That you were on the roof?” Genji cannot be this stupid. Hanzo punches him in the arm. “Ow!” Surely, he must know, if only he were to think about it. “What is the big deal?”

“Nothing,” Hanzo snaps, his breaths coming too quick and sharp to remain calm. Apparently, Genji can be this stupid. Or naive. “Don’t tell Father.”

“I won’t!” Genji promises, holding his hands up to protect himself from another blow. “I watch from the roof all the time. It’s not a—” He stops the stream of words pouring out of his mouth as his mind finally connects the dots. “Oh. Oh, Hanzo.”

Hanzo doesn’t need pity, just cooperation. He’d slipped up letting Genji discover him, displaying his secret shame and giving them something else that they must now hide together. And if Genji had stumbled upon him so unaware, who else might have done so? Who else already had? Was Father already aware of how much time Hanzo spent staring down at the alphas he was not allowed to set eyes upon?

Impossible. Father would have married him off long before now. Hanzo grabs his runaway thoughts and reins them back in. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. 

“I won’t tell,” Genji says. Hanzo nods. No, he knows that Genji won’t. Genji had learned his lesson about that a long time ago and while Hanzo hadn’t been grateful at the time, he appreciates it now. “So…” Genji says, “which one?”

“What?”

“Which one did you like?” Genji grins as Hanzo flushes. “Tell me.”

“Fool,” Hanzo snaps and dips his head to let his hair hide him.

“Hanzo,” Genji wheedles. “Come on.” He bends to put himself back in Hanzo’s direct line of sight, but Hanzo turns away from him. “Is it the cowboy?”

How utterly disgraceful that Hanzo is so transparent. Hanzo’s shoulders drop in defeat and Genji crows. “It is, isn’t it? The cowboy.”

“Hush,” Hanzo says as the shame of it all covers him like a mat. An American cowboy of all things. Utterly ridiculous.

“I’ll get his picture for you.” Ice cold panic chases away the hot flames of embarrassment and Hanzo spins back around to catch Genji’s arm.

“No.”

Genji grins. “Yes.”

“ _No,_ ” Hanzo repeats, but Genji slips from his grasp like water and streams out of the room, dashing down the stairs. Hanzo gives chase, hoping to forestall him before he reaches the door, but Genji, for all of his avoidance of academics, has grown fond of his ninja training. He is too quick for Hanzo to catch, bouncing out and down the steps, heading for the gate where Hanzo dares not follow.

The guards turn and look at Genji as he rapidly approaches, the uniforms and the cowboy glancing around. Hanzo sees the cowboy’s head turn his way, feels his eyes, and twists himself out of view, his heart thudding in his chest. Beyond the door, Hanzo can hear Genji’s laughter as he rattles through the English that his tutors had painstakingly beaten into him, the low drawl of the cowboy’s reply and Hanzo closes his eyes. 

He cannot tell which is worse, that Genji is outside asking a man for his picture for Hanzo’s sake or that Hanzo is going to look at it. There’s little sense pretending otherwise. The cowboy’s voice wraps around Hanzo, warming him in a way that reminds him of wet kisses and blue hair. Disgraceful.

A soft voice, barely above a whisper, intrudes on his self-imposed solitude. “Is it that time, Master Hanzo?” Aiko asks. Hanzo shakes his head and straightens himself.

“I am fine,” he tells her and does his best to look it, despite the embarrassment still raging through him. That isn’t the kind of heat that she is referring to, though, nor does Hanzo wish to disclose anything that he is feeling at the moment.

Aiko nods her understanding and continues hauling her load of laundry. Hanzo sighs.

“Anija.” A phone is thrust into Hanzo’s hands and Hanzo’s eyes snap to it. His knees feel a little weak. As handsome as he was from a distance, the man is even more so in the picture, his smile wide and easy, his brown eyes welcoming. “His name is Jesse,” Genji adds. “You’re welcome.” Hanzo stares at the picture, studying the face smiling back at him. Thin lips that Hanzo wonders how they would feel to kiss. The man’s nose looks as if it’s been broken before but somehow that only adds to his charm. The man looks confident, so sure of himself despite his ridiculous outfit, and Hanzo swallows, feeling heat burning his cheeks.

For a moment, Hanzo lets his thoughts romp through his mind unfettered and vague ideas of what it might be like to meet this Jesse flash across his vision. How Jesse might smile, might put his arm around Hanzo like he had Genji—more...

Heavy boots make Hanzo toss the phone back to Genji who fumbles with it, just barely managing to catch it before it crashes to the ground. It is hardly noble to flee, but Hanzo cannot be caught mooning at the door. He runs before the boots emerge from the hallway, darting back to his room.

Jesse’s wide smile stays with him.

* * *

In the night, the compound is eerily quiet, no bustle of servants, no noise of work, just the echoing emptiness of their lack. Hanzo rather enjoys it. It is peaceful—and one of the few times that he can pretend that he is alone. In the dark, as well, the castle looks different. It is almost as if he has been allowed outside.

In the courtyard, water burbles across the rocks, pushed by the same faint wind that brushes past Hanzo’s face to rustle the trees before it escapes the compound altogether, heading for places that exist beyond. Hanzo sighs.

It is useless to wish that he be like the wind, but yet the foolishness rests deep within his heart and refuses to be dislodged. He leans against a tree on the edge of the courtyard and stares across the darkened expanse. His mind fills in the missing details, reminding him that his fantasy is only that. He is still trapped.

Above him, the tree rustles, leaves blowing in a harsh wind that Hanzo doesn’t feel. Hanzo frowns and glances upward—just in time to see a green-haired buffoon fall from the branches. “Genji?”

“Anija!” From the ground, Genji reaches his arms upward towards Hanzo, a carefree grin spreading from ear to ear. He giggles.

Hanzo does not move into Genji’s reach and Genji seems momentarily incapable of standing. They are at an impasse. Hanzo quirks an eyebrow as Genji squirms on the ground. “What are you doing?”

Genji shrugs. “My legs don’t work,” he says, sounding unconcerned about this development. “I guess I’ll have to be a snake.” He breaks out into another peal of laughter as if the thought is hilarious.

“Oh?” Drunk, Hanzo thinks. Genji had most likely gone out drinking again. Somehow he had managed to launch himself up over the courtyard wall and gotten stuck in the tree before the alcohol had interfered with his motor control. “That is unfortunate. I don’t think that I can have a snake for a brother.”

“Hanzo!” Upset at this new development, Genji struggles to push himself upward. He pitches to the side and Hanzo sidesteps him to let him slam back into the ground.

“Dragons don’t associate with snakes.”

Genji grabs Hanzo’s ankle. “Don’t abandon me. I am not a snake.”

“I thought you were?” Hanzo stays within Genji’s grasp, peering down at him.

“Anija… I am… I am a Shimada.” 

Hanzo moves backward, easily breaking Genji’s hold, and Genji squirms towards him. “Shimadas walk, not crawl,” Hanzo tells him.

“Anija...” Genji whines. He pushes himself onto his knees. “I can walk.”

“But you are a snake.”

“I can walk!” Genji snaps, annoyed, and jerks himself upright. To his credit, he manages to stand on his own—for about six seconds before his balance gives out and he topples forward into Hanzo’s arms. Genji grins up at him, attempting to be charming. “I just had a little to drink.”

“I think you drank the bar,” Hanzo replies. Genji is heavy in his arms, pure dead weight, and Hanzo shifts to better support him.

Genji giggles. “Maybe.” He stumbles as Hanzo moves forward. “Where are we going, Anija?”

“To put you to bed before you sleep in the yard.”

Genji nods slowly. “I have done that before.” Hanzo is well aware. “Hey, Anija...” Genji’s halting steps attempt to match Hanzo’s own, trying as best as his drunken mind can manage. “Next time, how about you go drinking with me?”

Hanzo stops, causing Genji to lurch forward. Genji catches himself on Hanzo’s shoulders, swinging himself back around to something approaching upright. Outside? “That is impossible.”

“Hear me out me, hear me out,” Genji tells him, words slurring together as he slaps a hand at Hanzo’s chest. “It’s _fun._ I know that you are allergic to fun, but, Anija, I think that you’d like it.”

“Perhaps.” Just the thought of getting to go outside, come and go as he pleases, sounds like heaven to Hanzo. And impossible. Genji has no idea what is he asking.

“So, yes?” Genji grins at him, waiting for an answer, and Hanzo shakes his head to avoid the question.

“You are drunk.”

“You could be too.” At the moment, it sounds appealing. Hanzo could be as drunk as his brother and they could both be loons out in the courtyard. Except…

“Ne, Anija? I’m going to be—” Genji leans forward and pukes on the ground in front of them, heaves wracking his entire body.

That.


	3. Prosperity

“Hanzo,” Father says as he slides open the door to Hanzo’s room. Hanzo smothers his instinctive urge to jump at the sudden invasion and instead smoothly turns around. He adds in a step to the side that takes him a little farther from the bed and hates himself for doing it. This is his father. And his father is sober. There is nothing to worry about.

Father stops about halfway into the room and sniffs. Hanzo flushes. His heat is a little while away yet but Hanzo has been taking great pains to keep himself clean and as scent-free as he can manage. Surely, he isn’t so obvious that his father can smell him upon immediately stepping into the room. His father’s face shifts through a myriad of emotions from confusion to anger to realization and back to its normal, stoic cast. “Genji has visited your room recently.”

Hanzo wonders if this is a trap, but if it is, he will just have to trigger it because he is unsure of where it is. “Yes,” he answers honestly. Genji regularly visits his room and has since he was a child—despite his need to knock now.

“Does he visit you often?” Father asks.

“Sometimes,” Hanzo admits, still in the dark as to where this is leading.

“It is good that you love your little brother,” Father says, “but he is still an alpha—and of age. It might not be appropriate for him to visit you in your room.” Hanzo is taken aback. Surely, his father hadn’t just suggested what Hanzo thinks that he had. Genji would never hurt Hanzo—and, really, Hanzo thinks that perhaps Father ought not to be throwing stones from his glass house. Hanzo stares at his father and wonders if the man has forgotten that night—a night that no matter how drunk Genji has been when he’s come stumbling home has never been recreated by his youngest son. 

When Hanzo doesn’t reply, Father clears his throat and changes the subject. “I have found a suitable candidate for you to marry.”

Hanzo’s heart leaps in his chest. So soon? His mouth dry, he croaks, “Who?” None of the men that had been parading through the house would have been Hanzo’s pick. Not a one had invoked the same feeling in him that a simple picture of a certain cowboy had. It doesn’t matter, though. His opinion had evidently not been needed. Hanzo doesn’t even know why he would ask his father who the chosen alpha is. All of Father’s picks have been the same—cold, cruel men with lots of money and bloody histories. 

“Tenaka Goro has offered to join his clan with ours. This will greatly increase our standing.” Father continues on about how wealthy Tenaka Goro is, how powerful, and all the ways that he will be a good match for the Shimada clan but Hanzo only half hears it, stuck on the name. Tenaka Goro, or “Hatchet-Face” as Genji had termed him due to a scar that ran down the length of his face, had been one of the first alphas that Father had met with, the one that had smirked at Hanzo every time he had visited—the one that Hanzo had hoped, out of all of them, that Father would not pick. 

He is nearing sixty, older than Father. Hanzo wants to point this out despite already knowing how little it would mean. 

“You will provide the Shimada clan with many heirs—Goro-san agreed to the marriage contract to make him and all potential off-spring part of the Shimada family.” Oh, well, then. The important thing is taken care of. The elders will have their prosperity. 

“Hanzo.” Father pauses and waits for Hanzo to look at him once more. Hanzo does so reluctantly, but already resigned to his fate. “I had to tell him about your earlier transgression. Goro-san is willing to overlook this unfortunate lapse in judgment.” Hanzo’s heart threatens to leap from his chest. How had Father found out?

“Transgression?” he asks weakly. Was the boy with the blue hair already dead?

“To have had your first moments with an alpha stolen from your husband when you were just barely of age, especially by one so low of status, is a tragedy but Goro-san had indicated that he will still accept you.” _Daisuke._ He means Daisuke. Hanzo feels lightheaded. “I assured him that you wouldn’t have a similar failure of judgment in the future.” 

“Yes,” Hanzo answers, because it is expected of him. It is his duty.

“Goro-san will join us for dinner tomorrow. Be prepared to greet him.” Hanzo nods again and stares at the floor. His world seems smaller and dimmer than it had before, closing in around him. Father stands in silence for a moment before clearing his throat. “Well. Yes. Good.” He closes the door behind him when he leaves and Hanzo’s world shrinks even more.

* * *

“Hatchet-Face,” Genji says. Hanzo ignores him as he continues to smooth his hair. It is already in place but his nerves are getting the better of him. “Really?” He plops down beside Hanzo, cross-legged instead of kneeling like he should. “You put in this kind of effort for Hatchet-Face.”

“You should join Father,” Hanzo tells him. In fact, Father is expecting Genji to be with him, the alpha and the heir apparent set to greet the new family member before introducing him to his mate, but Genji snorts and waves it off.

“I already know what he looks like. Like he took a hatchet to the face. _Hatchet-face._ The name fits him.”

“Tenaka Goro is a good match,” Hanzo intones, repeating Father’s words. It’s not his proudest moment, but his mind is empty of any other ideas about Tenaka’s good traits.

Genji’s knowing eyes slide over to him. “Uh huh.”

“He will be good for the clan.”

“And what about you?”

“Stop, Genji.” Hanzo is half a step from begging. He doesn’t need Genji to tell him all of this. He knows. He has thought the same thing. But it isn’t either of their places to question Father’s judgment. They simply accept and obey. If Father has decided that Tenaka Goro is to be Hanzo’s husband, then Hanzo’s husband he will be and Hanzo will not fight against that despite any reservations he might feel.

Genji looks ready to continue, his mouth open to go on a tirade, but Hanzo is saved by Father loudly welcoming their guest—the volume for Hanzo’s benefit. Hanzo takes a deep breath and steels himself for what is sure to be a long affair. He stands and Genji rises with him, looking rumpled.

The door slides open and Father ushers their guest in. He pauses for a brief moment, looking between Hanzo and Genji, his expression hard, but Goro forestalls anything he might have had to say. “Beautiful,” Goro says as he steps forward. “You look as lovely as you did the first day I met you.”

Hanzo wishes that he could say the same, but he doubts that anyone would have ever termed the man in front of him as beautiful.

“Such formal garb. For me? You could have greeted me naked. I wouldn’t have minded.” Goro winks and Hanzo drops his eyes away as disgust roils through his stomach. Father clears his throat. 

“Tenaka-san, if you would join us?” Father gestures to the table where food is waiting and Goro laughter booms.

“Certainly. But you wouldn’t deprive me of a chance to embrace my mate-to-be, would you? After all, he is so beautiful.” Hanzo throws a quick glance at Father who appears to be uncomfortable with the suggestion but doesn’t protest. Large hands yank Hanzo forward, smashing him against Goro’s chest, and Hanzo keeps his face as neutral as possible, despite how much his lip wants to curl in disgust. The smell of pure alpha washes over Hanzo, followed by a note of sourness, and Hanzo tries to stop himself from breathing. The stench is overwhelming. “Your body feels nice against mine, omega,” Goro whispers in Hanzo’s ear. Hanzo jerks away, breaking Goro’s hold and moves to the table. The smell, unfortunately, follows him. His body is confused, wanting to respond to the alpha that so obviously wants him, yet repulsed at the same time.

“Tenaka-san,” Hanzo says, with a politeness that he is sure Goro doesn’t deserve, “I would be honored if you would join us.”

“Of course,” Goro says and settles himself down beside where Hanzo is standing. “I wouldn’t wish for my omega to be deprived of the chance to serve his alpha.”

An ache starts in Hanzo’s teeth from how hard he clenches his jaw, but it stops him from voicing his thoughts. He tries to sit as far away from Goro as possible, but Father beats him there. With a nod, Father indicates for Hanzo to take a closer spot. Hanzo does so with reluctance. 

Goro sighs. “He is lovely, Sojiro-kun. Your wife did well.” Father takes the compliment with a nod. “Male omegas are the luckiest of the sexes,” Goro continues. “Very fertile.”

Hanzo’s hands turn into fists beneath the table. This is, indeed, going to be a long night.

“Tenaka-san,” Genji says loudly and obviously, “aren’t you building a new office tower downtown?”

“Yes,” Goro replies and launches into a tale about the building and how much money he stands to make from it. Genji keeps his attention focused on Goro, nodding when appropriate, and Hanzo is incredibly grateful. His stomach feels as if it is tied into a knot, his nose filled with Goro’s scent. It must be amped by one of the commercial enhancers because Hanzo cannot seem to smell anything else. He has never smelled something so overwhelming.

He feels sick.

A hand lands on Hanzo’s thigh, underneath the table, sliding along it with far too much familiarity. “You should eat, Hanzo-chan” Goro says, his boasting to Genji momentarily finished. “You need to be strong and healthy to bear young.” The hand slides upward and Hanzo grabs it before it reaches his crotch. Goro’s eyebrows rise, pulling at his scar. “I could feed you.” Hanzo stares at the table and tries not to think about the way that his skin is starting to crawl.

“Hanzo,” Father says sternly and Hanzo looks at him.

“My apologies, Father,” Hanzo rasps. Goro’s hand wiggles in his. “I seem to be feeling ill.”

“Oh?” Father’s face takes on a dutifully concerned cast.

“Nerves, I imagine,” Goro says. “Omegas are easily overwhelmed.” His fingers rub over Hanzo’s thigh. “And perhaps the scent of an unfamiliar alpha is overpowering for his delicate senses. Sojiro-kun, perhaps you might allow Hanzo-chan and myself some time alone. It might help calm him to spend some time with his husband-to-be and get to know me better.”

Genji’s head jerks up in alarm. “I don’t think—”

“Of course, Tenaka-san,” Father interrupts. “That is a good idea.” Hanzo heart squeezes painfully. His father cannot be serious. Leave him alone with an alpha? With _this_ alpha? “We will leave you to become better acquainted.”

“Father,” Genji says.

“Come, Genji. Allow Hanzo some time with his betrothed.”

Goro grins and Hanzo’s stomach flips in revulsion.

“Soon, we will be spending a lot of time together.”

Father nods as he stands. “Riku will be posted just outside in case you need anything.” Hanzo’s eyes cut over to Riku who bows perfunctorily and steps outside the door. Riku has hardly ever spoken two words to Hanzo but Hanzo feels as if he has lost an ally.

“ _Father,_ ” Genji protests. “Shouldn’t we—”

“ _Genji_ ,” Father snaps. Genji jumps to his feet, his body hardwired to obey his voice’s voice in that tone. 

Hanzo watches them leave, the beginnings of panic starting to stir within him. He jumps when a hand brushes over his hair. “There’s no need to be nervous, Hanzo-chan,” Goro tells him, his voice a hushed whisper that grates over Hanzo’s skin. “It might seem scary but there is nothing to worry about. Omegas are happiest when bonded to a powerful alpha and I am very powerful.” His fingers trail down over Hanzo’s neck, reaching the collar of his kimono and pulling it aside. “I will take care of you.” Wet lips press against Hanzo’s skin, over the traditional place for a bonding mark, and Hanzo gasps, horror chilling his veins, and scrambles away, putting some distance between them.

“Tenaka-san,” Hanzo rasps. He rightens his kimono, hiding his vulnerable skin. It is the only armor he is afforded at the moment and thin though it is, he feels the need to have whatever he can between himself and Goro.

Panic flashes through Hanzo when Goro stands, his hind brain demanding that he make his escape before the danger can reach him, but he squashes it. Father would be so disappointed in him if he were to flee from his future husband. “Perhaps I should mark you right here. Let you know that you are mine.” Goro narrows his eyes and Hanzo’s blood runs cold.

Hanzo casts about in his mind for anything that might give Goro pause. “The ceremony…” Goro leans forward and Hanzo shifts to keep the space between them the same.

“Is only a ceremony.” Goro straightens as he shrugs. “I know how much omegas look forward to such things, pretty flowers and clothes for you.” He picks his cup up off the table and takes a drink. “You’ll have it, Hanzo-chan, don’t worry.” His smile turns predatory as he sets the glass back down. “But we don’t have to wait to have our wedding night.” He moves forward and fear propels Hanzo back another two steps. He would go more but his back touches the wall. “You are very beautiful, Hanzo-chan. It won’t be a hardship for me to keep you pregnant.”

 _Keep?_ Hanzo thinks, the word choice lodging in his brain. Goro prowls closer and Hanzo’s hands rise of their own accord, bracing for a fight. Upon realizing what he is doing, he quickly drops them before Goro can sense the threat but thankfully the alpha seems oblivious. “Tenaka-san,” Hanzo tries again. 

“Hanzo-chan.” Goro pushes into Hanzo’s space and reaches for him. Hanzo ducks under Goro’s questing hand and skitters away.

“My father is very big on ceremonies,” Hanzo says. It’s not entirely a lie. While Sojiro has little use for many ceremonies, he’s always insisted on hosting the traditional milestones for his sons. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that Sojiro’s had Hanzo’s wedding planned out for months now.

“We’ll make sure to invite him, then,” Goro says. He crooks a finger. “Come here, little one.”

What a terrible nickname, Hanzo thinks. As omegas go, he’s not exactly small and never has been. In fact, he and Goro are of a comparable size. Goro advances on Hanzo again, however, and Hanzo decides that he has other battles to fight. “Father would not be pleased if everything is not as it should be.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Fathers don’t need to know everything.” Goro lunges forward, scooping Hanzo up and pressing him against the wall. His grin widens. “There you are.”

Hanzo’s breath stutters, choking on the overpowering pheromones flooding his senses. The scent makes him want to run, want to fight. It’s nothing like how he’d been told it should be. Neither Daisuke nor Eiji had evoked the same reaction from him. What does that mean, he wonders. Goro nuzzles against Hanzo’s neck and a jolt of fear strikes Hanzo’s body, zipping through him like a lightning bolt. Though he is betrothed and of age, Hanzo is not ready to be bonded. Not just yet. Bonding means permanence. Surely, Hanzo has at least six months or a year before the actual wedding. He needs that time to adjust to the idea of accepting this alpha for the rest of his life. “Tenaka-san.”

“Relax,” Goro tells him. Hands tug at Hanzo’s belt, pulling hard enough to yank him off balance, and Hanzo abandons all his pretenses, reaching down to stop them. He shoves the hands away, rebuffing them when they try to return. “I said relax, Hanzo-chan.” Goro’s voice roughens into a growl and another spike of apprehension settles into Hanzo’s stomach. Riku is just outside. Surely Goro wouldn’t.

Goro seizes Hanzo’s wrists and forces them away from his body. It brings Goro toe-to-toe with Hanzo but thankfully leaves him with nothing to continue. Goro’s jaw clenches. “This will be better if you cooperate.”

Hanzo swallows. “I wish to wait.” Forever if he can. There is nothing about Goro that Hanzo likes, nothing that tells Hanzo that his company would be enjoyable at all. This is the man that he is expected to spend the rest of his life with and Hanzo cannot bear even five minutes.

“You would deny me?” Goro asks. He pauses in his attempts to force Hanzo into compliance, staring at Hanzo with his head tilted. The scar traveling down his face seems to take over, twisting his expression into something ghoulish.

“I wish to wait until after the ceremony,” Hanzo replies. Bonding marks are not given until after vows have been said, papers signed. 

Goro growls and shoves a knee between Hanzo’s legs. “You are already mine. I have paid your father and I will do as I wish.” He bends his head to Hanzo’s neck, teeth at Hanzo’s throat and Hanzo shoves at his shoulders, pushing him back.

“Not yet,” Hanzo says, wishing that his voice were stronger when he says it. He means it with every fiber of his body, but it comes out with all the conviction of a light breeze. His heart is pounding in his chest. 

“I see that your father has spoiled you. It will be troublesome to reeducate you.” He roughly yanks down Hanzo’s kimono, ripping the fabric in his carelessness as he bears Hanzo’s shoulders and chest. Feeling as if he has been divested of armor instead of cloth, Hanzo tries to gather the sides and cover himself again but Goro catches his hands, pins them beside his head, and leans. The pressure against Hanzo’s wrists makes him gasp. Goro stares blandly at him, uncaring of any pain Hanzo might be in. “You will find that I am not a patient man. First lesson: Omegas don’t make demands. You make requests. It is up to your alpha to decide if he wants to listen or not.” His lips crash against Hanzo’s, teeth cracking together, and Hanzo recoils from the pain. An eel invades his mouth, slithering along his tongue, and shock and disgust keep Hanzo in place as it stakes it claim.

The moment finally catches up to Hanzo and he fights against Goro’s hold. His instincts scream for him to lash out, fight back, but the remnants of civility stop him from doing so. He cannot injure his betrothed. Father would be so angry. “Stop struggling.” Goro bites down on Hanzo’s lip, sending a new flash of pain surging through him. 

Dropping downward, Hanzo breaks Goro’s hold and yanks his hands free. He ducks under Goro’s arms and tries to get around him, his only thought to escape before this gets worse, but a hand catches at his hair, dragging him backward. It wraps into a fist, tugging him back to Goro and Hanzo gives in to his instincts. He jabs Goro in his stomach, forcing a breath from Goro’s lungs, then does it again. The hand releases Hanzo’s hair and comes around to crack against his face. “You _dare_ —” Goro snarls.

Hanzo spins towards the door, running towards it, before his kimono sleeve is grabbed, stopping him. “Let me go!” Hanzo shouts, ripping the fabric free.

Goro grabs his hair again, gathering it in a fist close to Hanzo’s scalp. “I see you’re a slow learner. Unfortunate, but it’s not as if an omega is required to be smart.”

Riku appears at the door and Hanzo turns towards him, salvation almost close enough to touch. Riku’s mouth drops open in confusion as he stares at them. “Leave,” Goro snaps. “I am disciplining my omega.”

“Uh…”

Hanzo uses the distraction of Riku to jam a knee into Goro’s side. Goro grunts in pain and Hanzo does it again and again, keeping his blows focused on one area until he feels Goro’s grip slacken. He rips himself away and leaps towards Riku and the door. A hand on his foot sends him crashing back to the ground.

“Get off of him!” another voice yells and Genji launches himself into the room. Hanzo kicks at Goro, freeing himself again. Goro lunges but Genji puts himself in between them and smashes Goro across the face. He follows it with two more blows and Goro drops to the ground, out cold.

Hanzo pants, staring down at the comatose body, then shoves himself past Riku and out the door. “Master Hanzo!”

“Anija!” Genji catches up to Hanzo and reaches for him.

“Don’t!” Hanzo warns, throwing his hands up to defend himself. Right now, despite his rational side telling him that this is Genji in front of him, his entire body is shaking with the need to fight back, to hurt. He can’t guarantee that he won’t injure Genji.

Genji drops his arms to his side, holding them slightly outward to convey his intention to stay where he is, telling Hanzo without words that he isn’t a threat. Hanzo can’t seem to catch his breath. He’s gasping and whining like an upset puppy but his body refuses to obey him. “Hanzo. Are you okay?”

Hanzo glances around. His initial answer demands to be a yes, but for some reason he’s shaking his head no. He can’t stop.

“Did he hurt you?” Hanzo braces himself against a wall. The world won’t stop spinning. “That bastard!” Genji turns back towards the room that Goro is in, his fist raised. “I’ll kill him.”

Hanzo catches Genji’s arm before Genji can leave. He needs his brother to stay where he is. “Do not…” Hanzo struggles to find the breath to finish. “Do not leave me.”

“No.” Genji swirls back to Hanzo, thoughts of vengeance momentarily sidelined. “Never.”

Good. That’s good. Hanzo nods rapidly, unable to convince himself to stop. He breathes deeply and closes his eyes for a few moments, feeling the panic starting to fade.

In its place comes shame and embarrassment. What has he done? His _fiancé_ …

“ _No_ ,” Genji snarls. Hanzo’s eyes flutter open in surprise. Genji’s mouth has twisted into a frown. “Don’t, Hanzo.” Hanzo stares at him. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for Tenaka Goro being a piece of shit.” Hanzo drops his gaze away. “This is not your fault.”

And for half a second, Hanzo can almost believe him.

“What have you _done_?” Father thunders. He storms down the hallway, more dragon than man, and it’s suddenly years ago and Hanzo is terrified.

Genji slides in front of Hanzo, bracing himself against the storm of their father’s anger. “Father.”

“And you! I don’t even want to talk about you right now! Assaulting your brother’s betrothed? In my house?”

“Father, he—”

“Silence!” Father jabs a finger down the hallway. “Go to your room!” he orders but Genji only stubbornly raises his chin. His message is clear and Hanzo is grateful for it even as he is aghast at how disrespectful it is. Deciding to leave the battle with Genji for another time, Father turns his anger onto Hanzo. “Why is your fiancé passed out cold on the floor when he should be enjoying your company?” Hanzo doesn’t answer and Father barks. “ _Why_?”

“Because that piece of shit was assaulting him,” Genji snaps.

“ _Not_ another word, Genji!” Father roars before coming back to Hanzo. “Inviting him, were you? Tempting him? You can’t control yourself around an available alpha for two minutes, can you?”

A spark of fire flickers to life inside of Hanzo but he smothers it before it has a chance to burst into flame. It is hot, though, too hot to extinguish, smoldering down in the depths of him. “He wanted to bond me,” Hanzo whispers.

“As well he should! He is your fiancé!”

The fire burns a little hotter, adding a rasp to Hanzo’s voice. “I asked him to wait,” he tells the floor. 

“It is a fiancé’s prerogative—”

“He told me that he would do as he wished.” Hanzo’s voice grows stronger with each word. “That you had spoiled me.”

“Perhaps I _have_ —”

“And then he ripped off my clothes when I said no.” Father’s mouth is still open, likely trying to find something to throw back at Hanzo, but the ripped kimono and Hanzo’s disheveled hair speak for themselves. “In your house. With Riku outside the door. Who did _nothing_.” Nothing to protect him from the alpha attacking him. The one time that Hanzo had needed such protections and where were all of his father’s safeguards then?

Nowhere. Useless. Another cheap illusion in the shrine of Hanzo’s bullshit ‘purity’.

Hanzo flicks his eyes up to meet his father’s and sees uncertainty looking back at him. His father looks away. “It is an omega’s duty to please his alpha.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Genji blurts.

Hanzo puts a hand on Genji’s arm to silence him. “It is an alpha’s duty to protect his omega.” Hanzo gestures towards where his cheek throbs due to Goro’s blow. “Protection?” he asks. “From what?” His heart pounds at speaking so disrespectfully to his father, blood rushing past his ears for his gall, but he still holds his head high. This had been an alpha that his father had invited into the house, not one that had forced his way in.

Father studies Hanzo’s face, shoulders stubbornly rigid, his pride holding him firm. “I will talk to Tenaka-san when he is awake—”

“And tell him to fuck off—” Genji interjects.

“And smooth this over.”

Genji stomps his foot. “This is such _bullshit_!” Hanzo agrees.

“In the meantime, I suggest you think about your duty. To your family. _Both_ of you.” Father swirls away and stalks back down the hall.

The words have a ring of truth to them. They echo inside of Hanzo’s head until the fragile control that was keeping him upright breaks and he sags back against the wall. “Hanzo!” Genji’s hands flutter uselessly over Hanzo, remembering his earlier wish to not be touched but wanting to do so anyway.

Familiar shame and guilt war with the anger inside of Hanzo, radiating throughout his entire sense of being. He had failed. His father. His clan. 

But hadn’t his father failed as well?

He had always been taught to believe his father to be infallible, that his judgment was just and beyond question. Yet that was his choice for Hanzo?

Hanzo looks up to see Genji’s concerned face and that, more than anything, snaps him back to himself. He is frightening his little brother. He straightens and takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I will be in my room,” he says.

Genji nods and follows him every step of the way.

* * *

“I should not have told him no,” Hanzo says quietly, giving voice to the thought that has been growing louder and louder inside of his head. It seems to hang in the darkened room, blanketing it as effectively as the night. He should have done something else. Surely he could have distracted Goro otherwise. Done something other than reject him outright. Now that he’s calmed down and able to think more rationally, he’s thought about that moment over and over again, gone through it step by step, and there are so many things that he could have done differently.

“Fuck that,” Genji replies, sitting beside him. “Hanzo, he was going to _bond_ you. During your fucking _betrothal dinner_.”

Regardless, Hanzo could have handled things differently. He knows that. He should have known that an alpha like Tenaka Goro would not have accepted being told ‘no’ and worked around him like a proper omega—like he had been _trained_. “Anija.” Genji pokes him in the arm, distracting him from his thoughts. “You’re not marrying that piece of shit.”

Hanzo looks away. “Yes, I am.” It is what his father wants and so that is what Hanzo will do. What other choice does he have? It is not the life that he wants, but it is the life that has been chosen for him. It is never about what Hanzo wants.

“ _Anija_.”

“It is my duty.” Genji will never be able to understand. He’ll never have to.

“Fuck ‘duty’,” Genji snaps. “It’s not your duty to throw your life away by marrying some hatchet-faced thug.”

Yes, it is. Hanzo’s entire life has been leading to this point and anything else he might have thought was as meaningless as an idle daydream.

Genji launches himself upright and spins around to face Hanzo. He holds out a hand and Hanzo stares at it. “Come on,” Genji says as Hanzo’s brow furls in confusion. Perhaps it is the little bit of fury in Genji’s voice or maybe the determination on his face, but Hanzo tentatively takes Genji’s hand. Genji hauls him upward and drags him out of the room. 

“Where are we going?” Hanzo asks but Genji doesn’t answer, just shoves Hanzo into Genji’s room. Hanzo glances around, taking in the modern conveniences, the TV and gaming system, the assortment of weapons on the wall. The room is definitely Genji’s. “Get dressed.”

Without thinking, Hanzo looks down at his clothes. His kimono is a bit torn, but Genji’s never been the type to be bothered by that before. A shirt covers Hanzo’s head, the arms falling down over his face. He drags it off in time to be hit by a matching pair of pants. “Get dressed, Anija.”

Hanzo holds the clothes that Genji had thrown at him, confused as to why he is standing in Genji’s room with Genji’s clothes draped over him. “Why?”

“We’re going out,” Genji replies. Out? Out where? Outside? “And you can’t wear that. Everyone will know that it’s you if you do.”

Everyone? 

Hanzo frowns. Everyone in the castle already knows his face, so what does it matter what clothes he is wearing? It’s not like wearing a T-shirt is going to make all the servants forget what he looks like. “I do not—”

“Hanzo, nobody dresses like that.” Ridiculous. Hanzo dresses like this, so obviously someone does. Genji rolls his eyes. “Nobody _normal_.” Hanzo drops Genji’s clothes to the floor. Up until Tenaka had ripped it, this had been Hanzo’s best kimono—and his favorite. Genji scoops the clothes back up and shoves them at him again, looking apologetic. “I’m not saying that your clothes suck, Anija. But you can’t go out looking like a high class omega.”

“I am an omega.” Now Hanzo is really confused. High class?

“Anija, just put them on. If you go outside the castle walls looking like this, we won’t get far.” Genji’s mouth twists into an unhappy frown. “Probably for more reasons than one.”

Hanzo freezes. “Outside the castle walls?” he asks.

“Yes.” Genji nods, as if it were a perfectly normal thing for Hanzo to stroll out the heavy gates that guard the Shimada compound and not something that hasn’t happened in years. “And if you go in your clothes, every alpha in a five block radius is going to be hounding you. You look like you belong in a movie.”

 _Alphas_? Outside?

“If you wear my clothes, it’ll be better.” Genji’s grin makes a quick appearance, like the sun coming out from behind a bank of clouds. “Not that alphas wouldn’t crawl over broken glass to talk to you anyway.”

“I can’t.” Despite his words and what he knows that he should do, Hanzo’s hands grip the borrowed clothes tighter, bringing them against his chest. He tries to drop them but his fingers just dig in more desperately.

To go outside— _outside_ —beyond the towering walls that have held him all this time…

Hanzo can’t. It’s too dangerous. 

Isn’t it?

“Anija, it will be fine. I will be with you.” Genji grips his shoulders. “I will protect you.”

That is not what Hanzo is worried about. “Father would be furious,” he whispers.

“Father doesn’t need to know.” Genji nods at the clothes held tight in Hanzo’s fists. “Hurry. I want to show you something.”

Hanzo’s rational side screams about how leaving the castle is forbidden, about how angry Father would be, but his heart is pounding in excitement. He stares into Genji’s eyes for a long while and something of Genji must transfer over to him because he finds his hands starting to move, stripping off the kimono and sliding on Genji’s shirt.

He’s going outside.

* * *

The guards are unaware down below, leaning against the gates and making small talk in the dark, as Hanzo follows Genji over the top of the wall. Scaling upward is as easy as climbing a tree and it gives the moment a bit of surrealness because a transgression of this magnitude feels like it ought to be harder. It shouldn’t be so easy to break one of the cardinal rules that has governed Hanzo’s entire existence to date, but yet they’re already touching down on the street beyond the gates before Hanzo’s even finished processing that he’s crossing the boundary. Genji pulls him down an alley, out of sight of the guards, and then winds his way through the buildings, evidently sure of his surroundings. Hanzo trails after him, trying to keep up, but wanting to see everything at the same time.

They head down a hill and the buildings finally part, separated by a jut of road and the bright light of a street lamp. People pass by, on their way to other places, oblivious that they are being watched from the shadows. Betas, alphas, _omegas_ , of all shapes and sizes walking around freely as if they do it every night.

It takes Hanzo a minute to realize that they probably do. This is a normal night for the people passing by. He is the only one who is different. 

Hanzo takes a step backward and Genji grabs his hand. “Are you ready, Anija?” he asks and grins as he pulls Hanzo forward. Hanzo stumbles into the light, half expecting to hear an alarm, his father, something—but nothing happens. People keep walking, flowing around the two newcomers in their midst as if nothing is amiss. Hanzo stares at them.

An alpha an omega pair walk by, the omega wrapped around the alpha’s arm. They’re followed by a few single betas, then two alphas, walking hand-in-hand. 

_Two alphas?_.

“Is your mind blown?” Genji teases. Hanzo tears his eyes away from the alpha couple to glare at him. “Homosexual couples aren’t that rare. Alphas go with alphas, omegas with omegas—happens all the time.”

 _Omegas with omegas?_ “And this is accepted.”

“Oh yes, Anija. But that isn’t what I wanted to show you.” Genji pulls him down the street, entering into the flow of people like a fish swimming through a stream. It’s easy and natural to him and Hanzo feels a kernel of jealousy lodge inside. This is Genji’s life, the part that Hanzo has never been able to experience. If Hanzo had been born an alpha, he could have perhaps been just the same as Genji, navigating this sea of a city instead of being locked away.

Genji turns suddenly and drags Hanzo into one of the buildings. The pulsing throb of a drum reverberates through the interior, mingling with a guitar and a soft, smokey voice that pulls them in. They pass by people sitting at tables as Genji leads Hanzo off to the side and into a booth along the wall. Genji sits across from Hanzo and leans forward, putting his elbows on the table. “What do you think?” he asks.

Hanzo looks across the room at the tables full of people, at the counter along the far side, and the stage along the back wall. “Is this a bar?”

Genji grins. “Not really. It’s more like a...tea shop.”

“Tea.” Hanzo raises an eyebrow at the tall glasses in front of the two betas sitting at the table next to them. 

“Okay,” Genji admits, “they serve more than tea. But not everything is alcoholic, I promise. It’s a club.” He glances at the band and then comes back to Hanzo. “It’s nice, right?”

Hanzo purses his lips, considering. He shrugs. It’s less of an expression of an opinion, though, than it is the lack of one. Hanzo has little to base the idea of what is ‘nice’ on.

Genji nods as if he had given an enthusiastic endorsement. “It’s nice,” he states. “I know the owner.”

“Oh?” Hanzo asks, the thought of Genji’s ‘tea shop’ being part of their empire crossing his mind.

“This place used to be a grocery store, but she bought it and changed it to this.” Hanzo takes this information in and files it away, though he doesn’t see how it is useful at the moment. “She’s an omega.” Hanzo turns back to Genji to catch his grin. “She runs this whole place. Unbonded.”

Hanzo’s skin prickles, sensing a trap. “Why did you bring me here?”

“To show you that there’s more to life than who you marry.”

Of course. He’s here for a lecture. And to think that Hanzo had been excited about this chance to see the outside world. It doesn’t seem to be much different than the inside one. Hanzo slides out of the booth, heading for the door, but Genji grabs his hand. “Anija—”

“Of course there is more!” Hanzo snaps, his voice low as anger bubbles to the surface. Damn Genji and his inability to understand. “You think that I do not know that there is so much more out in the world? But it’s not _for_ me. It’s never for me.”

“Hanzo—”

“I do not have a _choice_ , Genji. I will do my duty as I am told. _That_ is my purpose. Not to run a—” Hanzo gestures with his free hand towards the rest of the room. “—‘tea’ shop, or fritter about on my own pursuits, but to serve my _family_.”

Genji bows his head. “I am sorry, Anija. I did not think.”

Hanzo snorts. Genji not thinking? Sounds like a Tuesday.

“Forgive me?” Genji gently pulls Hanzo back towards the booth and, grudgingly, Hanzo gives into the proding. “You can still stay and enjoy the music.”

It is rather nice. Hanzo nods. Where else does he have to go? And he’s certainly in no hurry to get back to the castle. It hardly seems right to have crossed so big of a line for only a few minutes of freedom.

“After this, we can visit the arcade if you want.”

“Arcade?”

“I’ve wasted many an hour there.” Genji chuckles. “You might like it.” Hanzo has no idea if he will or not, but he’s willing to try.

* * *

It is only a few hours later when Genji starts to say that they should head back to the castle and Hanzo is not sure if he is ready to return just yet. The arcade is indeed enjoyable, full of all sorts of interesting characters, and Hanzo now understands why Genji considers his green hair to be perfectly reasonable. Inside the arcade is a rainbow of hair colors, and an entire jewelry store of piercings. Everywhere that Hanzo looks contains something new, something that he has never seen before, never considered. One omega girl blinks at him with the slitted eyes of a cat and smiles. She lets him touch her to make sure that she is real, giggling as she taps his nose in return.

Through it all, Genji smiles like an indulgent host, introducing Hanzo to various individuals as his “cousin” for it is far to risky to let anyone know just who Hanzo is, that it is the “fabled” Shimada omega heir standing in front of them. The myth that seems to be built up around his very existence is a wonder unto itself. A few betas wax poetic about Hanzo’s supposed beauty while Genji nods in agreement and Hanzo frowns in sheer confusion. The betas seem to be describing a mythical flower rather than a person and Genji doesn’t correct them at all, lets them ramble on to their hearts’ content.

“He is not delicate,” Hanzo interjects after he hears the word one too many times.

“What?” the beta exclaims. “No, Hanzo-hime is extremely delicate! To be protected at all costs. This is why they keep him locked away for anyone who saw him would be instantly drawn to him! They would want him for their own and he would not be able to fend them off!”

Of all the stupid, ridiculous, _infuriating_ drivel that Hanzo has heard up to this point, this is by far the worst of it. Hanzo is no delicate flower to be walled off in an inaccessible garden lest he be trampled underfoot, but yet there’s that tiny sting that Hanzo cannot defend himself otherwise. His father _has_ had him walled off, haunting the compound like a ghost and unable to leave. He might as well be that flower stuck in that secret garden. Still. Hanzo is standing directly in front of the two betas and neither of them have been so “taken with his beauty” that are insisting on fighting to the death for the chance to “possess” him.

And though this surreal night has made it seem as if his other life is far behind him, Hanzo is bluntly reminded that it was only a few hours ago that Hanzo had been forced to fend off his actual fiancé. Hanzo wants to continue the discussion, defend his reputation and prove that his skills are equal to any other Shimada, but his stomach twists sickly inside of him. He turns and walks away as the beta continues to write his verbal ode to a person who doesn’t exist.

“Are you alright?” Genji asks, touching his elbow.

Hanzo jerks away from the unexpected touch and curses himself as a fool. It is just his little brother. He can damn well handle this. “I am fine,” he replies. The urge to vomit climbing up his throat begs to differ but Hanzo forces it back down.

“I should get you back to the castle,” Genji says regretfully. 

As if Hanzo is indeed that delicate flower, unable to handle even a tiny sampling of the outside world. “No.”

“No?” Genji reaches for him again, this time fully telegraphing the movement in advance, and Hanzo steps away. 

“No, I am not ready to return.” Hanzo is no hot-house flower. He is a Shimada and he will damn well do as he pleases. There is nothing that can stop a dragon from going where it wants, doing as it wills. Hanzo turns and heads deeper into the arcade, heading towards the back, but really nowhere in particular as long as it isn’t out the door and back behind the gates of Hanamura Castle.

“Han—!” Genji wisely cuts himself off before he reveals Hanzo’s true identity, but Hanzo ignores his attempts to gain his attention.

“Hey there, pretty omega,” a deep voice purrs. Hanzo ignores it as well, thinking that it is surely addressed to someone else, until a hand catches his wrist. Hanzo jerks to a stop and looks down at the unfamiliar fingers holding him tight. Who would dare…?

An alpha grins at Hanzo, his musk nearly overwhelming as he sidles in close to Hanzo. The urge to vomit comes back with a vengeance. “You alone, omega? Looking for some company?”

Hanzo’s eyes narrow and his fists clench at his side, ready to put the alpha in his place if need be. “Let go of me,” he growls. The alpha immediately releases him, holding his offending hand up where Hanzo can see it.

“No offense meant, pretty.” He takes a step backward, giving Hanzo a small measure of space, and Hanzo can breathe again. Hanzo storms off, heading for the stairs to take him to a higher level.

“Stop!” Genji hisses, catching hold of Hanzo’s borrowed clothes. Hanzo whirls on him and breaks his grip with a downward slice before continuing. “Stop, damn it!” Genji grabs his wrist this time, fingers sliding over the same place where the alpha had caught him before—where the bruises left by Goro are still healing.

“Don’t touch me.” Hanzo breaks this hold just as easily as the other, but Genji’s already seizing his other wrist. “I said let go!”

“Anija,” Genji pleads, forgetting himself in the moment, “I think it is time to return. Let’s go back.”

“ _No._ ” No, Hanzo is not returning now. This may very well be his only night of freedom before his marriage to Tenaka Goro and Hanzo will not let it be ruined.

A spark of something dreadfully familiar flashes in Genji’s eyes and Hanzo’s skin prickles as his mind flashes back to his father, to Goro, to just about every alpha that he has ever known. Genji quickly extinguishes it, but it is too late as Hanzo is already breaking free and running for the nearest exit.

“Anija!”

Hanzo hits the side door of the arcade, bursting out into a side area. He glances around, searching for his escape. High walls surround him—it is the castle all over again, yet another prison to hold Hanzo captive in. Blood rushes past Hanzo’s ears, threatening to drown him in his own fear, and he launches himself at the closest wall, scaling upwards. He must reach the top. He must escape.

He launches himself over the edge and falls onto the street below, landing with a crouch. The back alley is empty save a stray cat that skitters away. Hanzo looks to his right and his left, seeing nothing but empty street, and chooses at random. “Anija, wait!” Hanzo runs down the alley and turns the corner.

The city layout is foreign to him, but that doesn’t matter. Hanzo is a Shimada, a _dragon_ , and he will go where he pleases. Laughter echoes up ahead and Hanzo diverts from his course to climb upward, wanting to be alone. He jumps and catches the sill of a window, hauling himself upward to the next story, and then again and again until he is four stories up.

Far below, a shock of green hair pounds into the alley. Genji is out of breath and panicked as he looks around frantically for a clue as to Hanzo’s whereabouts. Hanzo melts into the shadows and holds himself still as he watches his younger brother clutch his hair. “Oh my God,” Genji says to himself. “Hanzo, where are you?” He darts off without a glance upward, panic overwhelming his good sense.

Guilt twinges in Hanzo’s chest, but he presses a fist to his heart to will it down. Genji is worried about Hanzo, but Hanzo can take care of himself. Hanzo is not a wilting omega needing an alpha’s protection. How many times must he prove himself before he is believed?

Hanzo climbs back down to the street and heads in the opposite direction of Genji. Just for a little while. That is all Hanzo asks.

The street lights of the main thoroughfare beckon and Hanzo gives in to their lure, once again stepping out into the bustling crowd. People flow around him, completely unaware of who he is and uncaring of him or his status. 

It is...freeing. Hanzo smiles to himself and pulls up the hood of his borrowed sweatshirt. A dizzying array of lights attempt to coax customers into a variety of shops and Hanzo finds himself mesmerized by them. He has always seen the glow over the castle walls at night but he had not had any idea that this had been what he was missing.

“Hey, cutie!” a man calls and Hanzo’s head turns automatically to see an omega male wink at him. Hanzo looks away and keeps moving.

The streets change around him the farther he walks. The streets grow less crowded, the shops less open—a few with locked iron gates across their front. Hanzo glances up to see the bars across the windows and wonders if they serve the same purpose as the castle’s walls.

The few people that are on the streets in this part of the city seem to have a definite purpose in mind, walking towards their destinations with little meandering. Some brush by Hanzo on their way past, hurriedly jogging ahead. Others turn into the many hidden corners and nooks of the mismatched buildings.

Even the lights are different—dimmer and somehow less cheerful than they were before.

Hanzo crosses another street, wandering deeper into the city, but stops in his tracks as he catches sight of a familiar hat. Surely, it couldn’t be the same. What would be the odds?

There had to be other wannabe cowboys hanging about Hanamura, right?

The hat turns to give Hanzo a glimpse of the face beneath and his breath catches in his throat. _Jesse_. Hanzo darts into an alley, his heart pounding in his chest. He peeks around the corner, wondering if the man had spotted him, before he realizes that once again he has exposed himself and hides once more.

Hanzo ducks his head and stares at the street. What is the cowboy doing here? Could he still be in town because of business dealings with Hanzo’s father? Or does the man live in the city? Hanzo risks another glance.

Jesse leans against the wall, lit cigar in his mouth as he stares aimlessly up at the cloudless night sky. One hand rests on his hip, while the other lifts to carelessly grab the cigar. Smoke floats upward as he blows it towards the dull street light.

Gone is the uniform that he wore to the castle, replaced by dark jeans and a plaid shirt. The heavy armor has also been discarded, leaving him looking strangely vulnerable. Approachable.

And it occurs to Hanzo that Jesse never actually saw Hanzo in the castle. As far as Jesse should know, Hanzo is just another of the many omegas that call Hanamura home—not an heir to the Shimada empire, not an omega that does not know life outside of a walled off garden. Hanzo smooths his hands over his thighs, wiping away sweat. 

_He doesn’t have to be Hanzo_.

Jesse looks up as Hanzo approaches, his nostrils flaring, and Hanzo wonders if he smells as good to Jesse as Jesse does to him. It is definitely alpha pheromone that hangs in the air, calling to Hanzo’s baser instincts, but they aren’t as overpowering as Goro’s had been. Hanzo _wants_ to step into Jesse’s space, wants wrap himself up in Jesse’s alphaness. It’s frightening. Terrifying. Exciting.

At the moment that their eyes meet, Hanzo makes a decision. In a week, a month, a year, whenever his father chooses, Hanzo will marry Tenaka Goro and sacrifice his life in service to his clan. Of that there is no question. When the time comes, however, he will not be the pure, chaste omega that Goro is hoping for. This one night will be Hanzo’s. He will prove all of his father’s fears correct and steal from Goro what the alpha already believes to be his. It will be Hanzo’s one perfect act of defiance—and a warm memory to sustain him.

Hanzo only hopes that Jesse is willing to spend this night with him. He doesn’t even know the man’s last name, but he doesn’t need to. They will most likely never see each other again and this American cowboy will simply live on in Hanzo’s past as a fantasy come to life.

“Hello, darlin’,” Jesse drawls in his accented English and Hanzo shivers at the low, smoothness of his voice. He wants to hear that voice when it reaches for the same registers Hanzo’s does in the middle of heat-driven ecstasy. Jesse keeps his body posture open and non-threatening, still leaning against the wall, and Hanzo is emboldened to move directly in front of him, trusting that he can handle this alpha. “Nice night.”

Yes, it is. Hanzo looks up at Jesse, only a small amount of space separating them. The picture that Genji had taken had only contained an echo of the man. It is the same facial features, same brown eyes, same wide mouth, but there is a magnetism that the camera had simply been unable to capture. Hanzo feels as if he could stare forever. He wants to _possess_ the man in front of him, keep him for all eternity.

“Can I help you, darlin’?” Jesse asks. He pulls the cigar out of his mouth and holds it at his side, a small burning light near his hip. “Sorry, but I don’t speak much Japanese.”

Hanzo licks his lips. “Perhaps we can help each other,” Hanzo replies in English. 

And Jesse catches Hanzo’s meaning loud and clear. He straightens from his lean, making him even taller. His brown eyes narrow in interest as a smile grows on his face. “Well, I reckon so,” he purrs. His voice churns through Hanzo’s insides, creating an ache that settles in his lower region.

It’s all the permission that Hanzo needs. Hanzo’s hands lash out and bury in Jesse’s hair to drag him down those few inches to Hanzo’s lips. In his eagerness, he forgets such things as dignity and lifts himself up onto his toes, uncaring of who might be watching. 

The first touch of their lips together is nearly enough to send Hanzo to his knees. He reels, steadying himself against Jesse’s shoulders, and leans in more, needing to get a better taste of the man. Jesse groans as Hanzo licks the seam of his lips and returns the favor, getting a taste of Hanzo as well. Hanzo’s heart thuds in his chest, loud enough that surely the whole world must hear it. Hanzo takes a quick gulp of air and attacks Jesse’s mouth again, desperate to get more.

This. This is what kissing is supposed to feel like, what the scraps of gossip and whispered conversations have always told Hanzo. Hanzo burns from the inside out.

Large hands settle on Hanzo’s waist, cupping his hips rather than holding, allowing Hanzo an escape if he wants it, and Hanzo presses closer to Jesse. He feels the whole of Jesse’s front against him, each breath pushing into each other.

With a small, regretful noise, Jesse breaks the kiss, lifting his head enough to separate them no matter how much Hanzo strains to make up the distance. “Now, uh,” Jesse rumbles, “don’t take this the wrong way or anything, darlin’, but are you charging?”

Hanzo tilts his head in confusion. ‘Charging’? He skims through his available vocabulary of English words and tries to ascribe a meaning. 

To run at? To accuse?

“’Cause I want you, sure enough, but I’m flat broke if that’s the case.” Jesse’s thumb slips under Hanzo’s sweatshirt to touch the thin T-shirt underneath.

Oh. “I am not interested in money,” Hanzo replies and Jesse finally lets Hanzo pull him back down again. It’s a truthful statement, for although Hanzo will be exacting a price from Jesse, it won’t be monetary. 

And perhaps it is more that Hanzo is paying Jesse, wanting Jesse to take something off Hanzo’s hands that he has no need for anymore. “Do you have a room?” Hanzo whispers.

Jesse nods. “Sure do, Sugar. You wanna come up?” He holds up his hand for Hanzo to take.

Hanzo places his hand in Jesse’s and shivers as Jesse interlaces their fingers. Even holding hands with the man is enough to make Hanzo’s blood heat.

Jesse leads Hanzo inside the building behind him, traveling up two flights of stairs with the only contact between them being their clasped hands. The anticipation of the alpha’s touch threatens to drive Hanzo mad.

When Jesse finally opens a door and pulls them through, Hanzo feels that he has just about reached his limit. He barely waits for the cowboy to lock the door before he is on him once more, practically throwing himself into Jesse’s arms. “Oh,” Jesse says as he’s knocked backwards. His hat tumbles to the floor, but he doesn’t seem to care. Hanzo kisses him with all the passion that he has repressed for years, all the longing looks that he has thrown from the upturned roof of the castle and all of his unsatisfied heats compounding together.

Jesse’s back hits the wall as Hanzo pins him in place. Hanzo wants to touch the man everywhere. Anywhere. He drags his hands over Jesse’s chest, exploring not only the man in front of him, but also what it means to touch another person with such intent. Jesse’s shirt is soft underneath his fingers, the buttons giving easily as Hanzo starts to undo them. Hanzo wants to touch skin.

“Slow down there, darlin’,” Jesse groans. He braces against Hanzo’s shoulders and puts some space in between them and for a brief moment, Hanzo’s heart stutters. Jesse doesn’t want him? “Or this show is going to be over before it even begins...” Jesse slips back into Hanzo’s arms, swaying as if dancing to an unheard tune, and cups Hanzo’s face to pull him in for another kiss. 

It’s gentler than any before—sweeter—but just as good. A small noise escapes Hanzo’s throat, pulled out of him by the skill of Jesse’s talented lips. He follows Jesse’s lead as the man kisses him slowly, thoroughly. Everything else falls away—his status, his father, even his lingering concern for Genji. There is nothing else in this moment besides him and the alpha in front of him.

Hanzo is unaware of how much they are moving until his legs bump into an object behind him. He pulls away to look and tenses when he sees the bed. Jesse had walked him across nearly the entire room without Hanzo knowing. “This alright?” Jesse asks. His touch is gentle on Hanzo’s upper arms, more a suggestion than a hold. He slides his fingers softly underneath Hanzo’s jaw, slipping past his ear and over his hair. “Don’t have to go to bed if you don’t want to take it that far...”

Hanzo’s eyes snap back to Jesse’s face. “I want it,” he says and kisses Jesse again. He has never wanted anything as much as he wants Jesse.

Jesse grins against Hanzo’s lips. “Have a seat, then, sugar,” he drawls and coaxes Hanzo into sitting on the bed with a guiding hand on his shoulder. He steps between Hanzo’s spread legs and kneels, gazing up at Hanzo with his sly smirk. Hanzo swallows as something hot and sharp stabs into his groin. _Fuck_. Jesse’s hands slide up over Hanzo’s thighs, reaching for the center of him and Hanzo shudders with anticipation. They divert their course, however, to slip underneath Hanzo’s sweatshirt, pushing it upward. “How about we take this off?”

Hanzo nods and yanks the sweatshirt over his head. He tosses it behind him, uncaring of where it lands as Jesse chuckles. “This too?” Jesse asks, toying with the hem of the T-shirt. Hanzo pulls that off as well and throws it in the same direction. And Hanzo realizes that he is half-naked with an alpha. His toes curl.

“Damn, darlin’,” Jesse breathes, his eyes locked on Hanzo’s naked chest. “You sure are pretty.” He leans forward and flicks his tongue out to lick at Hanzo’s skin, just under where the dragons stretch across his body. Hanzo gasps, his eyes sliding closed before he forces them back open, not wanting to miss anything that Jesse does. Jesse follows the outside lines of the dragons, tracing them up Hanzo’s chest to his shoulder. “Where did you get this?” he murmurs, but though he asks the question, Hanzo doesn’t feel that he’s too concerned about the answer as in the next moment, his mouth descends to follow the same path that his fingers took.

Hanzo sinks his hand into Jesse’s hair, while his other fists in the sheets, needing something to hang on to. Jesse hums against Hanzo’s skin, his lips and tongue gliding over Hanzo’s body. Hanzo arches his back, wanting more of Jesse’s talented mouth, and Jesse chuckles as he finds a nipple.

Panting, Hanzo spreads his legs wider to ease the ache in his groin as Jesse’s lips tease him. It is far better than Hanzo has ever does to himself, even in the midst of a heat, far more intense that he had ever imagined that it would be. Hanzo tosses his head back, staring sightlessly at the ceiling as Jesse pulls pleasure from his body just by having his mouth on Hanzo’s nipple. “Sensitive, huh?” Jesse whispers and latches his mouth around it and sucks. Hanzo moans, clutching Jesse’s head more desperately, looking for some semblance of control before he loses himself completely. Jesse brings up his hand to exploit the weakness, teasing Hanzo’s other nipple with his fingers. 

It feels as if Hanzo is in the throes of a heat, so hot does his body burn, so desperate is he to continue. Is this what it’s always like, Hanzo wonders? Is this how it feels to be with another person? To be with an alpha set upon his pleasure?

Distantly, he remembers Genji’s friend with the blue hair, remembers how hot his blood had heated then. Between his legs, in his borrowed clothes, Hanzo is wet and hard. His cock strains against the seam of the pants, longing to be free, and Hanzo knows that his underwear is soaked. 

“Damn, you smell good,” Jesse mutters, face still pressed against Hanzo’s chest. His hands drop away as he wrestles with his own shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons before he finally manages to rip himself free of the plaid. Naked from the waist up, he then slides his hand downward to cup himself, squeezing his own cock and Hanzo whimpers in helpless arousal. He likes seeing the alpha on his knees, so turned on by Hanzo that he resorts to seeking relief from his hand.

Jesse’s mouth slips downward, dragging over Hanzo’s stomach. His tongue takes a moment to swirl around Hanzo’s navel, flicking inward to make Hanzo shiver, than moves lower still, stopping at the waistband of Hanzo’s borrowed pants. “Can I, darlin’?” Jesse runs a finger along the fly, brushing over Hanzo’s cock. Hanzo bucks into his touch, a whine escaping him despite how tightly he clenches his teeth. “That a yes?”

Hanzo nods hurriedly. Yes, oh, yes, he wants Jesse to continue. He wants Jesse’s mouth to follow it’s current path to its natural conclusion and just the thought of it has Hanzo starting to squirm. “Yes,” he hisses. 

Jesse winks at him and pops the top button. “You want my mouth, honeybee?” He licks at the triangle of skin that had been hidden behind the button of Hanzo’s pants.

“ _Yes_ ,” Hanzo repeats, his hand tightening in Jesse’s hair. He thinks that he should probably relax his grip but he can’t find the willpower to do so.

“Keep pullin’ like that, darlin’,” Jesse tells him. “I like it.” Hanzo’s thighs start to tremble as Jesse draws down the zipper of Hanzo’s fly. Hanzo’s cock bulges forward, tenting his underwear and Jesse hums to himself. “That for me?” he asks inanely then mouths it through the fabric.

“Ah!” Hanzo’s knees jerk upward and he tumbles backward onto the bed. It’s too much. Even separated by a layer of cloth, Jesse’s mouth has got Hanzo ready to come. It’s worse when Jesse licks at it, dragging wetly over the already soaked fabric.

“ _Lord Above_ ,” Jesse rasps and sucks at Hanzo’s cock through his underwear. “You are _wet_ , darlin’.” Hanzo nods, a blush staining his cheeks. It’s almost shameful how much he wants Jesse. “Lift up for me?”

The meaning of Jesse’s words doesn’t readily come to Hanzo, not until he feels his pants sliding downward. Following the directive, Hanzo lifts his hips and allows Jesse to fully pull down his pants and underwear both. They slide over his thighs and past the bend of his knees to puddle around his ankles. Hanzo’s shoes drop to the ground next, quickly followed by his discarded clothes.

He is naked on the bed, clothed only in his desire. Embarrassment curls his legs upward, seeking to hide himself, before Jesse spreads him wide again. Jesse kisses his inner thigh, tongue flicking at the skin. “Beautiful,” he says, and moves steadily towards where Hanzo has wanted him since the moment Jesse first put his mouth on Hanzo’s skin.

It is more a squeak that any kind of dignified noise that Hanzo makes when Jesse brushes his face over Hanzo’s naked cock. Jesse presses a kiss against the base and Hanzo covers his mouth to try and muffle himself. “You okay?” Hanzo nods, his hands digging into his cheeks. Jesse laughs, his breath puffing over Hanzo’s exposed skin and even that makes Hanzo feel as if he is going to explode. “It’s okay to make a little noise, darlin’. I like that as much as the hair pullin’.” He lifts his head up to drag Hanzo’s cock over the bridge of his nose. “God, you smell good. You got me ready to burst just smelling you.” Jesse’s fingers slip along Hanzo’s thighs to reach his crotch. They tease at his cock, then slip down to his pussy. “I fucking love male omegas,” Jesse whispers. “You got the best of both worlds, here.” And he pulls back to swallow the whole of Hanzo’s cock.

Hanzo’s hands aren’t enough to muffle his noise, the sound echoing in the roof despite his best attempts. Jesse’s mouth is the warmest, wettest, most perfect place that Hanzo has ever known, and his entire being is reeling. He feels as if he is drowning in the pleasure of it, overwhelmed and unsure of how to handle any of the intensity rocketing through him. He tosses his head from side to side, fighting the ecstasy that swamps him.

It’s not enough.

Jesse slips a finger inside of Hanzo and Hanzo spasms around it, orgasming from only a few moments in Jesse’s mouth and some light touches. Jesse grunts and keeps his lips sealed around Hanzo’s cock, swallowing everything that Hanzo spills.

Pleasure is still radiating through his limbs when Hanzo recovers himself enough to be aware of what has just transpired. He flushes, mortified. Jesse must be so disappointed in him. Hanzo had barely lasted a few seconds. His slides his hands up to hide the rest of his face.

Jesse’s finger is inside of him yet. Embarrassing. 

“That take the edge of, darlin’?” Jesse asks and Hanzo shivers in response. He doesn’t have a voice to respond. Jesse rotates his finger, twisting it in a circle, and Hanzo gasps. It is simultaneously the hottest and strangest thing he has ever felt. So strange that a single finger, though smaller than many of the heat tools could feel more satisfying than any of them. “How about this?” Jesse pushes his face lower between Hanzo’s legs and a bit of warmth traces the opening between his folds.

A shiver of pleasure races down Hanzo’s spine, making him tremble. “ _Fuck_ ,” Hanzo swears, then slaps a hand over his mouth, shocked that he had given voice to such a word. Jesse’s tongue licks out again, sending more pleasure radiating along Hanzo’s nerves, and Hanzo’s legs attempt to clench together. He doesn’t know if he wants to force Jesse away or keep him where he is, but it doesn’t matter anyway because Jesse’s solid body stands firm.

“Take it easy there, darlin’. You’ll probably enjoy this—though I might just enjoy it more.” Jesse winks at him and something clenches inside of Hanzo, sweetly aching. Jesse’s fingers curl gently in Hanzo’s wetness as Jesse rumbles a laugh. “Oh, you really liked that, huh?” They slip inside of Hanzo, tracing designs in his most private of areas and making Hanzo shudder. Jesse’s mouth descends to follow his fingers, tongue and lips drawing out more pleasure. “Mmm, you taste good, sweetheart,” Jesse murmurs. He urges Hanzo’s legs wider and Hanzo lets them fall wherever Jesse wants them, wanting nothing more than for Jesse to continue what he is doing. Jesse spreads Hanzo wide, exposing him completely, and licks into Hanzo’s hole. Hanzo’s own tongue echoes the motion, wetting his lips and dragging over his teeth. Jesse groans as he commits himself to his task, eyes closed and attention focused.

Hanzo pushes himself upward, looking down at the cowboy between his legs. His breath is coming short again, his heart pounding as his body slowly climbs back up to another orgasm. His scattered thoughts cast about, wondering if he is indeed in heat, trying to calculate dates and days before giving up entirely. Does it really matter? 

Fingers slide deep into Hanzo, gliding inside Hanzo’s dripping wetness. They slip partially out then thrust back in again and Hanzo gasps, his legs starting to tremble. Oh, yes, he thinks. Please. Jesse lifts his head to nuzzle Hanzo’s cock and a shock of pleasure rockets painfully through him. Hanzo jerks to the side, instinctively escaping the intense sensation and Jesse’s hands retreat, moving to rub soothingly against his hips. “You okay there, darlin’?”

Hanzo cannot muster an answer. He simply grabs Jesse’s hands and drags them back to where he wants them and urges Jesse’s mouth to return to its task. “Whatever you say, sugar,” Jesse rumbles and runs his lips over the length of Hanzo’s cock again. His fingers dip back inside of Hanzo, thrusting, twisting, curling, and a second orgasm washes over Hanzo—dry but just as intense. Hanzo’s entire body tightens with the pleasure as he pants at the ceiling. Jesse’s lips and fingers slow their assault, turning to a gentle tease as Hanzo comes down from the high of pleasure.

The room around Hanzo feels hazy, slow and languid, as if Hanzo now exists on a cloud rather than the earth. His limbs fall limply to the bed, momentarily boneless, and a warm mass covers him—Jesse, Hanzo thinks. Jesse is on top of him. Skin to skin as Jesse’s clothes are gone, and the alpha’s hard cock is dragging over Hanzo’s body. Hanzo swallows and tilts his head to look down, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jesse’s cock, but all he can see is Jesse’s shoulder as Jesse mouths at his neck. Hanzo can feel it, though—bigger than the heat tools, harder than Jesse’s fingers—and Hanzo wants to touch it. He stretches his fingers out, reaching between them. For a brief moment, his courage fails him, making him hesitate, but his need quickly overwhelms everything else and he runs his fingertips over Jesse’s hard length.

Jesse groans and ruts against him, pushing into Hanzo’s hand. “Is it my turn, darlin’?” Jesse murmurs under Hanzo’s jaw and Hanzo licks his lips and nods. 

“Yes,” he whispers and wraps his hand around Jesse’s cock with intent, holding it firmly. It feels differently than holding his own but he likes it, like the feel of it in his palm, likes how each touch makes Jesse shift and move and thrust against him.

Jesse sighs. “Like that, sugar. Just like that.” He drops a hand down to Hanzo’s, guiding Hanzo’s hand, coaxing him into stroking the way that he wants. Hanzo lets Jesse’s cock rub against him, dragging the leaking head over his skin, sliding it against his own hard cock as Jesse murmurs words of encouragement. 

And Hanzo wants. His insides ache, wanting to be filled, wanting to feel the thickness of Jesse’s cock inside him. Questing after a goal that he only half understands, Hanzo subtly shifts upward, urging Jesse’s cock to slip lower. They both groan as Jesse’s cock slides through Hanzo’s wetness. “You sure, darlin’?” Jesse asks and Hanzo answers him by slipping Jesse’s cock inside of himself.

He’s expecting pain but all he feels is pleasure as Jesse slips inside as easy as a hand into a glove. Hanzo’s eyes flutter closed and he throws his head back as he lifts his hips to get more of Jesse inside of him. 

Jesse inhales sharply and pulls himself backward, still inside of Hanzo, but not nearly as much as Hanzo needs. “Whoa, there, darlin’,” Jesse says. “I, uh, I’m not prepared, you know?” 

Hanzo digs his fingers into each side of Jesse’s ass, trying to physically pull the man closer to him. “Please,” Hanzo whispers when Jesse stubbornly stays put. “Please.” 

Jesse’s hips jerk forward and yes—yes, that is exactly what Hanzo wants. He wraps his legs around Jesse’s waist, locking his feet together to keep Jesse bound to him. “Okay,” Jesse gasps, dropping his head against Hanzo’s shoulder as he surrenders. “Okay, I just, uh, I just won’t—oh Lord—” He shudders and thrusts in again, harder than before, rocking Hanzo upwards on the bed. This is what Hanzo had been missing for all of his heats, the feeling of a solid, warm body above him, around him, inside of him—holding him down and letting him feel every bit of the pleasure. 

“I won’t knot you,” Jesse promises and Hanzo’s baser parts wants to tell Jesse no, that Hanzo wants Jesse’s knot, demand that Jesse will give it to him, but the more rational side of Hanzo is nodding his head and saying “Yes.” Each thrust of Jesse’s hips is driving Hanzo closer and closer to orgasm, his third in such a short amount of time, and again Hanzo wonders if he is in heat because never has he been so desperate to come so quickly outside of that all consuming desire. 

Hanzo’s hands slide over Jesse’s chest, memorizing the curves, reminding himself that this is real, that this is an alpha inside of him. Taking him. _Fucking him._ A young, desirable alpha of Hanzo’s choosing. This moment is all Hanzo’s. “Sweet Lord above,” Jesse mutters and captures Hanzo’s lips with his own, kissing him. Devouring him. Hanzo buries his hands in Jesse’s hair, tangling his fingers in the locks to hold on. Jesse rocks against him, somehow still gentle despite how need is roughening his voice. 

“Oh, hell,” Jesse hisses and pulls out. No, Hanzo thinks, and tries to drag Jesse back down to him, but Jesse shakes his head and keeps them apart. “No, no, no...” Jesse mutters and jams a hand between them to grab at himself. “Damn it...” Hanzo stares down at where Jesse is clutching the base of his cock, and his breath catches when he realizes what is happening. Jesse’s knot is expanding.

Hanzo shoves himself upright and snakes a hand down to wrap around Jesse’s own. He wants to know what an alpha’s knot feels like—what _Jesse’s_ knot feels like. Jesse tosses his head to the side with a hiss as Hanzo’s curious fingers touch him, exploring. Hanzo looks up at Jesse’s taut face, wondering if it is pain or pleasure that he sees written across Jesse’s face. Or both. 

Grunting, Jesse thrusts shallowly back into Hanzo, just dipping the tip inside, forcing Hanzo to part around him, and humps Hanzo in short little bursts before he withdraws completely. “ _Cripes_.” Warm come splatters on Hanzo’s stomach and Hanzo bites his lip as desire twists hotly inside of him. Jesse’s groans through his orgasm, face contorting into a snarl before relaxing into a sigh as he pumps more and more come onto Hanzo’s body. Hanzo gazes down at the growing mess on his torso. That could have been inside of him, he thinks. He runs his fingers through it, coating his skin, and moans. Jesse could have just as easily been filling him as wasting it on his stomach. 

“Oh, hell, darlin’,” Jesse groans. He kisses Hanzo, tongue licking inside Hanzo’s mouth, then drops steadily downward, kissing Hanzo’s neck and shoulders and chest before reaching his own mess and licking that as well.

Hanzo whimpers. Jesse licks and sucks, cleaning Hanzo with his mouth and Hanzo trembles, his body aching. Jesse reaches Hanzo’s cock and sucks it down as his fingers slip inside of Hanzo again. Hanzo is already balanced on the knife-edge and a few thrusts of Jesse’s fingers and Hanzo is spilling into Jesse’s mouth once more. Jesse swallows it down.

When he’s done, Hanzo’s body gives a few final jerks. Jesse licks his lips clean. “Thank you, sir,” Jesse purrs and leans up to steal another kiss from Hanzo’s breathless lips. Hanzo loses himself in Jesse’s mouth, letting himself wallow in the simple pleasure of having another’s lips pressed against his own, having a coy tongue teasing inside of him. He likes kissing. How much would he have done if he had been born under different circumstances? What else would he have experienced? When they break apart, Jesse sighs in contentment and nuzzles under Hanzo’s jaw. His arms wrap around Hanzo to hold him close as he slides off Hanzo to lay beside him.

Hanzo lets himself lay there in Jesse’s arms, mind drifting pleasantly. He feels a sense of gratitude among the satisfaction, that he is grateful to Jesse for gifting him this experience. Before long, he will have to return to his life in the castle and he doubts that anything in his life will ever equal this moment, but at least he will have the memory of it. Unfortunately, it is that thought that brings back the cold hard truth of his future. 

Reality rudely intrudes upon the haze of contentment, duty reasserting itself over his own selfishness. He could happily lay in Jesse’s arms for the rest of eternity but that is not the hand that has been dealt to him. In fact, this entire memory has been stolen as it never should have happened in the first place. If Hanzo was more dutiful, more obedient, more like the omega that his father would have him be, Hanzo would still be home in the castle, never knowing of what pleasure could await him. Hanzo cannot find it in himself to regret it. He will treasure this—treasure the memory of Jesse—forever.

However, his miserable future trapped in marriage to Tenaka Goro still awaits him. In all likelihood, as well, Genji is out combing the city in a panic, looking for Hanzo. Hanzo should not have left him. Genji might have even understood Hanzo’s desires—though, he also might have stopped Hanzo out of a sense of brotherly duty, or at least not have let him go so far. In the end, Hanzo _had_ to leave Genji. He couldn’t have taken the chance otherwise.

The deed now done, however, Hanzo knows that he should find Genji and return to the castle, put this dream of a night into his fantasies where it will live forever. He longs to stay in Jesse’s arms even just a little longer, but he knows that it is not an option for him. As memorable and pleasurable as this night has been, the longer he stays away, the more he risks his disobedience being discovered. With regret that he finally sits up, removing Jesse’s arms from around his body. 

Jesse lets him go, propping an elbow under his head to watch him as he leaves the bed and starts to gather his clothes. “Don’t suppose you have a name, darlin’?”

Hanzo pauses, his mind reviewing the possibilities. If he were to tell Jesse even his given name, Jesse could figure out his real identity and then this night would be sullied. There is the option of a fake name, but Hanzo feels that Jesse deserves better. Hanzo has no idea what kind of man he is, what is in his past, but based on the time that they have spent together, Hanzo wants to treat him better. So he shakes his head. “No,” he says simply.

“Okay,” Jesse says and lets it drop. He rises and starts to gather his own clothes as Hanzo dresses himself.

When Hanzo goes for the door, Jesse stops him with a hand on his wrist. Hanzo turns, heart thudding in his chest at what he might be forced to do, but Jesse only kisses him softly. “Bye, sugar,” he says and lets his hand drop away. Hanzo studies his face one last time and nods. “Goodbye.” Then he slips out the door.


	4. Health

The night is cool as Hanzo sets out into it—or perhaps it is more that his body had gotten warmer in Jesse’s bed. Either way, he feels lonelier than before, yet somehow fulfilled. He puzzles the odd feeling as he walks through the streets.

Though Hanzo does not know the town nor its layout, Genji isn’t hard to find. Left with few options because of his lack of knowledge, Hanzo simply locates the castle standing high above most of the rest of the city and heads towards it. There he finds Genji sitting against a back wall, staring despondently at the ground, and Hanzo walks up beside him and sits down as well.

“You smell like alpha,” Genji tells the road. 

“Don’t tell Father.” 

Genji shakes his head. “I won’t.” He kicks at a stone, then turns his head to face Hanzo. “Why did you run away?”

Hanzo runs a hand over his knee as his contemplates his answer. “As you are so fond of telling me, it is my life. I decided to live it before I am asked to throw it away.”

“Hanzo...”

Hanzo shakes his head. “No,” he says. “You have never understood but there has always been a difference between your destiny and mine. That’s how it is.”

“So you decided that you would go out and try to get yourself killed? Or worse?” Hanzo scoffs and Genji turns more fully towards him. “You also reek of sex.”

“I was in no danger.”

“ _Yes,_ you _were_ ,” Genji stresses. “You’re so fucking naive—”

“Me?” Hanzo asks, surprised.

“Yes, you!” Genji tosses up his hands in frustration. “You have no idea how this world works, what certain alphas would _do_ to someone like you—”

“Were you not the one that has been telling me all along to find a partner? To ‘date’? As if Father would ever allow that?”

“With my protection! Not—not on your own!”

Ah. And there was the alpha attitude. “So you too think that omegas cannot take care of themselves,” Hanzo snarls at the far wall. “We must be ‘protected’.” He’s not angry at Genji. He can’t be. This is who Genji is. He’s mad at himself for thinking otherwise.

“No! Not omegas. You, Hanzo! You need to be protected. Most omegas—” Genji cuts himself off, likely aware of the anger rising inside of Hanzo. How could he not be? Hanzo can feel it contorting his face.

“Most omegas what?” When Genji doesn’t answer, Hanzo snarls, “most omegas what, Genji?”

“I’m not—I’m not Father,” Genji stutters. “I don’t think that all omegas are weak and helpless. I don’t believe in all of that bullshit. It’s just… You’re not like most omegas, Hanzo.”

Hanzo snorts. Of course he isn’t. He’s a _Shimada_ and he fails to see how that makes him more vulnerable. “No, I have been trained to be a killer since I was old enough to hold a knife,” he says, reminding Genji in case he has somehow forgotten.

Genji cedes the point with a nod, yet still persists. “And you have also been raised to be a traditional high class omega.” Hanzo has to take a moment to process Genji’s words, wondering at their meaning, and Genji forges ahead. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, that is why over half the city would kill for a chance to be with you—”

Hanzo cuts him off. “With a me that doesn’t exist. They want ‘Hanzo-hime’, not Hanzo.” If his time outside of the compound has taught him anything, it has made that painfully clear. He’d had no idea the absolute myth that had been built up around his very existence.

“They are the same person,” Genji replies.

No, they aren’t. Hanzo is painfully aware of just how much he falls short. “How easy life would be if they were.” If Hanzo were indeed the proper high-born omega that everyone wishes him to be, so many complications in his life would simply solve themselves. He wouldn’t _want_ anything but what has been set in front of him—and perhaps he would have pleased his father enough to have bothered to make a better match for him instead of being in a rush to sell him off. 

But that has never been Hanzo.

Genji shoves himself to his feet. “We need to get back.” He combs his fingers through his hair and sighs as Hanzo stands beside him. “Was he nice at least? The alpha.”

Hanzo swallows, a bit of embarrassment burning inside of him. “Yes,” he says. He had been everything had Hanzo had wanted. More. And Hanzo would likely never see him again.

Genji nods. “Okay.” He dashes up the wall, grabbing hold of the top to lift himself over and then perches on top, looking down at Hanzo and waiting. Hanzo braces his hands against the wall. It should be easy to follow Genji, as simple as the flow of the air around him, but for some reason it is not. Something weighs down his legs, makes them stiff and unmoving. “Hanzo,” Genji calls quietly and Hanzo shakes his head to dispel the momentary malaise. He knew that this would be temporary. 

And that’s why he hadn’t wanted to go in the first place. This night will likely be the last in the city that he will ever have unless he dares to break the rules again.

...Unless he does this again. The thought sits in Hanzo’s mind, yet another kernel of rebellion building inside of him.

“Hanzo!” Genji snaps and Hanzo climbs up after him. There will be no more exploring tonight, but perhaps another time. Another night.

Hanzo is almost certain of it.

How easy for his father and his brother if he were Hanzo-hime, content to sit in his tower, hidden away from view like a secret treasure—but Hanzo is not. And never will be.

* * *

How much it takes to wash away the scent of an alpha and sex, Hanzo doesn’t know, but he certainly tries. He scrubs his skin until he is convinced that anymore would take it off entirely before he finally takes himself to bed. 

The next morning, he smells more like the perfumed soap than omega but if anyone notices, they do not comment on it. In fact, no one talks much at all. The servants are tiptoeing through the hallways and both Genji and his father are nowhere to be seen.

That suits Hanzo perfectly. He grabs breakfast from the kitchen and applies himself to his studies for the rest of the morning. 

In fact, he doesn’t see either his father or Genji until dinner, when both come and sit stiffly at the table, everyone pretending that nothing is wrong. Hanzo’s heart thumps in his chest. He wonders if Father suspects—if he _knows_. Genji wouldn’t have told him, no matter how mad he was at Hanzo for running away—or concerned—as that would just implicate them both, but Father has a way of finding things out. Genji is staring determinedly at his plate as if trying to will himself elsewhere. He jumps when Father clears his throat.

“On account of what transpired,” Father announces, “I have decided to reconsider my decision. Tenaka Goro is not a suitable match.”

Hanzo wonders if the blood rushing past his ears is too loud for him to hear and he is substituting what he wishes his father would say instead of the reality. Did his father just call off the engagement? Hanzo is not that lucky. Omegas are supposed to be the luckiest of signs but Hanzo has always found that his luck is only bad.

“Father?” Hanzo asks.

“I informed Tenaka this afternoon.” Pronouncement given, Father turns his attention to the food.

Hanzo glances between him and Genji, seeing the small smile breaking through Genji’s somber mood, and feels a comfort that he has not felt in quite a while. He will not have to marry Tenaka Goro. He is momentarily free. Hanzo feels like shouting from the rooftops but he keeps it all stored away inside of him, keeping up decorum when he wishes to do anything but.

Perhaps Hanzo does have some good luck somewhere.

* * *

That night, Hanzo pulls out the memory of Jesse and remembers. He feels the touch of Jesse’s hands again, the wetness of his mouth, and the warmth of his body. He relives the sense of freedom and joy of that stolen moment, only this time, his future is, for the moment, open. Hanzo is not so naive to think that it will stay that way but he can enjoy the feeling while it lasts.

He sleeps and dreams of Jesse.

* * *

About a week after Hanzo’s transgression, The man in black visits father again, slipping through the doors of the compound like smoke and whispering through the hallways. Hanzo slinks back into the shadows, unsettled yet elated at the same time. The man still has no smell—a sheer void where his pheromones should be—and his face is as cold as stone as he enters Father’s study.

“I wonder what he wants this time,” Genji says at Hanzo’s shoulder. 

Hanzo shrugs. He’s got other questions on his mind, like if a certain American cowboy is waiting at the gate. He’s already turned to face the right direction as if he were planning on walking there. As if that would even remotely be a good idea. No, Jesse doesn’t know his name, but he would most definitely recognize Hanzo’s face.

...Though that doesn’t necessarily mean that Jesse would be able to guess his identity. After all, the castle employs many omegas. Hanzo could be Aiko, going about the daily chores.

It still wouldn’t be a good idea, but oh does Hanzo want to do it anyway.

“I bet your cowboy is back,” Genji says and Hanzo jerks towards him, wondering if he had somehow given away his own inner thoughts. Genji smiles at him teasingly and Hanzo smiles back because it is the first smile that Genji has given him since that night a week ago. He had missed how Genji’s face lights up with mischief.

Hanzo drops his gaze to smile at the floor. “Perhaps you could get another picture of him.”

Genji chuckles. “He might take it the wrong way. Though maybe it could be a right way? He is attractive…” Genji trails off at the insinuation and Hanzo playfully shoves him.

Hanzo certainly doesn’t need a picture of Jesse anymore. He has the man’s face memorized. And, yes, he is very attractive.

Still. Perhaps this one he could keep.

“I’ll go ask,” Genji says and Hanzo’s heart stutters ( _ridiculous_ ), “but this time I will tell him it’s for my brother.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Genji winks and dashes off before Hanzo can stop him.

In truth, Hanzo doesn’t even want to stop him. He wants Genji to get another picture of Jesse. He wants Genji to tell Jesse that it’s for Genji’s brother. He wants Genji to tell Jesse Hanzo’s name and—

Hanzo is letting himself get carried away. A stolen night, a few pictures, even the loss of his idolized virginity are all secrets that are easily kept. Jesse knowing his true identity would not be. Hanzo will content himself with the picture and the memories. It will be enough to sustain him.

Still, a look from afar wouldn’t hurt, would it? As long as Jesse doesn’t see him… 

Hanzo rushes down the hallway and climbs upward to get to one of the high windows and peek out. He wants to climb out onto the roof but all it would take would be a glance upward and Jesse could spot him. If Jesse didn’t know his face, it would be one thing, but he does. Hanzo cannot risk being recognized.

Though how he wants to be.

Genji has located Jesse, shock of green hair a blaze at the gate, and Hanzo’s heart thumps painfully in his chest as he looks down at Jesse. Jesse is back in his uniform, ridiculous cowboy hat firmly on his head, but Hanzo can clearly picture how Jesse had looked that night—with the plaid shirt and without. He shivers as he remembers how warm Jesse had felt, how solid. The remembered scent of Jesse’s alpha pheromones fills him and Hanzo takes a deep breath to steady himself.

Far below, Genji has pulled out his phone and has Jesse posing against the gate. Jesse’s laugh echoes through the air and Hanzo closes his eyes as he slips back out of view. An ache has started in his chest, growing worse the longer Hanzo stares down at Jesse and this is ridiculous of him to feel this way, pathetic and shameful.

It had been one night and now Hanzo’s heart had apparently settled on forever. Perhaps all of the stereotypes about omegas that Hanzo had dismissed in the past had been true, because Hanzo’s baser instincts are apparently dead set on proving them. Surely, Hanzo is stronger than this. Deliberately doing the opposite of what his body wishes, Hanzo pushes himself away from the wall and heads back down to the lower level. He does not look out anymore windows.

It would be easy, so very easy. No one would stop him. He doubts anyone would even make a comment if he were to go out into the courtyard to get even a closer look.

So he doesn’t.

Genji comes running back in a few minutes later, grinning triumphantly and out of breath, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He holds out the phone for Hanzo and Hanzo tells himself that he isn’t going to take it, but he does. He stares at the easy smile that Jesse is giving the camera, the one that photographs cannot even hope to contain a tenth of, and remembers.

“He is very handsome,” Genji says teasingly, at ease because the alpha Hanzo is gazing at so longingly is merely a rendering of computer code on a screen and not the actual man.

Hanzo nods. Jesse is indeed handsome. Hanzo knows that very, very well. “Can...” his voice fades as he tries to think of the question he wants to ask and his courage fails him briefly. “Can you...keep this? For me?” Hanzo would never be allowed to have such a piece of contraband as a picture of an alpha, but Genji, Genji could keep it for him. Who would care? Or even notice? And whenever Hanzo wanted to look again at Jesse’s face—tomorrow or ten years from now—Hanzo could simply ask Genji to let him see again.

Torture would most likely be kinder.

Genji gently takes the phone. “Of course, Anija,” he says. “I kept the other one, too.” He flips back through his pictures and finds the other one, holding it up for Hanzo to see. Hanzo nods again and smooths his hands over his clothes, the memories of that night echoing in his mind.

“Thank you.” When Hanzo is married off to some alpha old enough to be his grandfather, miserable in his caged life, he will remember Jesse, he’s sure. 

It is good that Shimadas are dragons. The tough hide will serve Hanzo well.

* * *

“These numbers are good,” Nori pronounces and Hanzo feels a small swelling of pride. The flat words are high praise indeed from Nori. Everything must be done perfectly to get above an “acceptable”, including remembering all the loopholes and unwritten rules that no one ever bothers to tell a person about until the moment after they have missed it. “Your father will be pleased.”

Hanzo drops his eyes to the desk, too shocked to keep his expression shuttered like he should. To please his father? That is something that Hanzo has not dared to hope for in years. His father is always vaguely disappointed in him, thinking that he could apply himself just a little harder, no matter how much effort Hanzo puts in.

Nori must really be happy with him for her to say such a thing.

“Thank you,” Hanzo murmurs and slides the previously checked books over to her. She stacks the one she has just finished looking at on top and picks up all of them.

“I will take these to him,” she says and Hanzo nods. He stands as she does, the manners ingrained in him taking over in lieu of any other conscious thought in his mind.

“Please,” he says, gesturing his hand towards the door. Now that she has brought it up, Hanzo is anxious to hear what his father might say about his work—if he says anything at all. He reminds himself not to get his hopes up, no matter what praise he has earned from Nori. If his father merely finds them acceptable—or even just a mistake or two—Hanzo will accept it as the compliment it is.

He watches Nori leave, the door shutting behind her and then sighs as he takes his seat again. Filled with the numbers and codes from the books, his brain is spinning in circles. He knows that his time would be best spent studying one of his more ignored subjects but at the moment, he simply _doesn’t want to_. He can’t even bring himself to look at the textbooks sitting on the shelf. Instead, he spins in his chair and stares out the window at the courtyard below.

The sun is shining brightly, only a few thin clouds in the sky, and though the view is beautiful, Hanzo finds that it does not hold his attention, either. No, his thoughts are drifting to where they always seem to go whenever he has any fleeting moment of free time lately: day-dreaming about a certain alpha’s smile and how he had made Hanzo’s body sing.

Hanzo sags in the chair and closes his eyes. He is utterly useless lately. It is surprising that he was able to focus enough to fool Nori into thinking that he was attentive, let alone to please her so much for her to actually praise him. Jesse has moved into Hanzo’s mind with all his ridiculous Americanness and refuses to leave. Hanzo wonders if the alpha will be there permanently, occupying some small part of Hanzo’s mind from now until he dies.

Hanzo stares up at the ceiling. Would that be a bad thing? To be able to keep the memory of Jesse so close to him?

A prim, proper, and above all _rational_ side of him wants to shout “YES!” but the rest of Hanzo overrules it completely. Right now, he _likes_ the idea of Jesse. Thinking of the alpha makes him happy and in the privacy of his own mind, he can tell tradition and decorum to take a hike because Hanzo would like to take the next ten minutes and contemplate the finer points of Jesse’s cock.

Which he is now definitely thinking about. So much for getting any work done.

Even if he wasn’t aware of the days on the calendar, Hanzo would know just by his body’s preoccupations that his heat is coming up far sooner than he would like. The laser-like focus on Jesse is a clear indicator of his body’s desire to secure a mate for a rapidly approaching heat.

It’s going to be so disappointing to have to drag himself to the heat room alone once again. Hanzo doesn’t even want to think about how much worse the loneliness and discontentment is going to be now that he has experienced what it is actually like to be with an alpha.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. It’s going to be sheer hell.

On that note, Hanzo is going back to bed. If anyone asks, he’ll plead illness. The truly sad thing about it all, though, is that he knows that everyone in the castle will have an inkling as to why if not all the details.

How utterly humiliating. Hanzo is going to bury himself under the covers and pretend that the world doesn’t exist for awhile.

He’s accepted that he’s also going to be thinking of a certain alpha when he does so.

* * *

“Hanzo-sama!” a voice hisses. Hands grab at his shoulders, shaking him, and Hanzo snaps awake, eyes opening to sheer darkness. Panic claws its way up his throat, followed by an overwhelming urge to defend himself, to damage, and Hanzo nearly acts on it before he recognizes the beta in front of him: one of the gate guards. Hanzo glances around wildly, looking for enemies but only seeing the confines of his room.

“What are you—”

“Hanzo-sama, we must hurry!” the guard says, interrupting him. Hanzo is yanked from the bed, dragged onto his feet and a thousand questions are racing through Hanzo’s mind. 

“What is happening?” 

“We have been betrayed,” the beta whispers and ice grips Hanzo’s heart. Betrayal? From who? Where was Father? Where was Genji? Where was anyone besides them? “I must get you to safety before—”

The door to Hanzo’s bedroom slams open and a single shot rings out before Hanzo can even react. The guard falls to the floor, his body spasming in death throes, and Hanzo instinctively drops with him.

The smell of alpha pervades the room as the assailant enters. Hanzo’s stomach twists sickly. He glances towards the guard’s dead body. The gun that the man dropped is on the other side of him, too far away to grab without lunging for it, but a knife sits sheathed in his belt. Hanzo palms it, hiding it within his sleeves, and casts about for any other weapons he might be able to grab in the next few seconds. “Good evening, Hanzo-hime,” the unfamiliar alpha snarls from the doorway. “Time to get up. Your husband is waiting.”

Husband? Who? Hanzo stays motionless as his brain stalls for an answer. He is…

He is being abducted. By who? For who?

Hanzo pulls out a small hidden drawer of his stand and snatches up a small knife.

“I said get up!” The alpha stomps into the room. “Are you deaf?”

“You’ve probably scared him half to death,” another voice says. “An omega like him isn’t used to such rough treatment.”

“I’ll show him ‘rough’,” the alpha growls and grabs Hanzo’s arm. “Come on, _Hanzo-hime_. Let’s not keep the boss waiting.”

“Hey, hey, hey, you can’t just grab him like that—”

Hanzo lashes out with the dead guards knife, deadly and accurate, and blood blooms across the alpha’s neck. He hasn’t missed a killing blow since before he was a teenager. 

The blood splatter is new, though. Before, everything had been on training dummies, not actual humans with flesh and blood. Hanzo freezes when it splashes against his skin, a moment of shock flooding him as the alpha’s body thuds on to the floor. 

His first kill.

He stares at the blood on his hand.

“What the hell—” the other voice shouts and Hanzo’s body responds without needing directions from his currently useless mind, snapping his arm outward and letting the knife fly. It lands in the man’s throat, his shout dying in a gurgle.

Two dead. Who knows how many more left to kill.

It’s that thought more than anything that snaps him back to his senses. Hanzo pushes himself to his feet as a calmness overtakes him. He has been trained for this. He will see this through and defend his home. Followed close on the heels of that thought is a rage that threatens to overtake his rational mind. Who would dare to enter the domain of the Shimadas in such a way? Who would rise up against them?

Hanzo shoves the rage down, wanting it to fuel him rather than drive him, and picks up the bow from the corner of his room. He slings the quiver over his head and situates it within easy reach. Whoever has done this will regret it, he thinks. He will make them pay for their transgression.

He only hopes that Father and Genji are still alive. They had better be.

The hallway is silent outside of Hanzo’s door. Either there had only been two of them sent to retrieve him or the others are occupied elsewhere. Hanzo slinks quietly down the hallway, keeping to the shadows. He passes the body of a girl, one of the servants, and his hand tightens on his bow as he vows vengeance for her death as well. She did not deserve to meet such an end.

A clomp of boots and whispered voices echo from down the hall and Hanzo sees a group of men jog down the hallway towards the other side of the house. Silently, quickly, Hanzo runs to the junction, nocking an arrow as he does. He lets the arrow fly as he peeks the corner, hearing it sink into its target and a body hit the floor. The invaders shout in alarm and Hanzo peeks again to aim another shot.

His aim is off, puncturing a shoulder rather a chest—disabling rather than killing. Damn it.

“You!” one of the invaders snarls and Hanzo nocks another arrow as the man starts to charge, followed by the others. Hanzo has only a few seconds to get in kill shots before the men will be on him. He intends to take down as many as possible before then. His next strike hits true, sinking into the first man’s eye. He gets off one more, killing another.

Inside of him, he can feel the power of the dragons, their energy rippling through him with each shot. It is stronger than Hanzo has ever felt them before and he wonders if it is because of the deaths, if they too want their share. He feels them start to emerge, curling around his arm, and knows that his next shot is going to let them loose to rampage.

He doesn’t know if he can control them—doesn’t know if he even wants to. 

Before he can fully draw his bow again, though, he is dragged to the side and thrown into a wall. The power of the dragons momentarily dissipates with the break in his concentration. He bounces off the wall, scrambling to grab his weapon, thoughts of seconds and trajectories and death circling through his mind like a demented carousel. He has to kill these men. That is the only option because anything else will mean failure. He reaches inside of himself for the power of the dragons again. Maybe? 

A boot lands on the bow, pinning it to the floor. “Hanzo-hime,” a voice rasps above him and Hanzo snaps his head up to see another stranger grinning at him. Hanzo lashes out with his small knife, aiming at the man’s stomach, but misses when the man jumps back out of reach. The man dances back within range but before Hanzo can try again, the man knocks the knife from Hanzo’s hand and gets a fist in Hanzo’s hair to yank his head back. “A Shimada through and through, aren’t you?” 

The other invader halts his charge, skidding to a stop. “Get the rest of the men!” the man holding Hanzo snaps. Hanzo grimaces as the bones in his wrist grind together in the man’s grasp. The invader’s grin widens as he turns back to Hanzo. “Not quite how the stories depict you, but I can see the appeal.” His eyes drag down Hanzo’s face. “Oh, yes, I can definitely see the appeal.” 

Hanzo’s skin crawls in revulsion. He brings up his knee, but finds it countered easily. He swings his free hand around, aiming for the invader’s head, but finds himself swung around instead, his back suddenly against the man’s front. The man forces Hanzo’s head to the side and buries his face against Hanzo’s neck, mouth brushing over the traditional place for bonding marks. “You smell like sex on legs, don’t you?” the man moans in Hanzo’s ear. “No wonder he’s willing to go through all this for you. Rich and you smell like that?” Hanzo’s stomach roils. He jabs his elbow backward, but the invader counters that as well, swinging Hanzo around by his hair and taking him down to his knees. The man yanks Hanzo’s head upward and a knife pricks against his throat. Hanzo stops his struggling, knowing that any wrong move on his part could mean the end. “Your husband is anxious to see you again, Hanzo-hime.”

“He killed Aki!” a disembodied voice yells.

“Oh, he killed more than that.” The man’s voice is a purr, sounding oddly pleased with the amount of deaths at Hanzo’s hands. “Shin’s dead too. And Yu. Probably a few others, right, Hanzo-hime?”

“What?” a man asks.

“I told you not to underestimate him. Omega or not, he’s still a Shimada.” The man drops the knife and uses his grip on Hanzo’s hair to roughly shake his head back and forth. “You forgot that. Beautiful and deadly.”

“I will take it out of him in blood—”

The man shoves the other back. “ _You_ will go get the rest of the men and track down his brother.” Genji. They hadn’t gotten him yet. There’s a small budding of relief inside of Hanzo that he won’t let himself feel fully. _Yet._ Hanzo needs to find him before that changes. “I doubt the boss would be pleased to have his new Shimada bride damaged considering all the trouble he’s gone to.”

There’s a growl above Hanzo’s head.

“Take it out on the brother if you want,” the man says dismissively and pulls Hanzo to his feet. “Or any of the others that are still alive. This one is to be unharmed.” How many? How many had these men killed already?

“Now, Hime, how about you be a nice little omega and cooperate? Tenaka-sama is going to be so happy to see you.”

Hanzo’s eyes widen. Tenaka. Hanzo had thought that he was free of the vile alpha. Hanzo’s eyes catch on the knife still in the man’s hand and there’s a thought of faking a fall for a chance to grab it when four quick shots boom through the room. Hanzo ducks down, the man dropping on top of him, and Hanzo scrambles away, attempting to break free of the man’s hold before he realizes that he is no longer being held captive. The man’s hand drops lifelessly from Hanzo, thudding onto the floor.

Hanzo skitters to get his feet underneath of him. Still crouched, he glances around and his eyes widen as he realizes that he is the only one left alive. Someone had dropped them all in the blink of an eye.

There’s a jingle of spurs behind him and Hanzo spins around. He forgets how to breath when he sees the cowboy hat.

Jesse—gorgeous, perfect Jesse—stares past him, eyeing the bodies on the floor, no doubt trying to make sure that he had killed them all. “You okay there, princess?” he asks absently. Hanzo stands up, shoving his hair from his face and Jesse finally turns towards him. Jesse’s mouth drops open. “You...”

There’s a million questions that Hanzo should be asking right now, starting with where Genji is and why is Jesse here, but the words refuse to come to Hanzo’s lips. He is struck dumb, staring at Jesse as Jesse stares back at him. Memories and whatifs battle with the harsh reality of Hanzo’s life. Of course Hanzo wouldn’t even be able to have a simple stolen night to remember. Of course it would end like this.

‘Luckiest’. All of Hanzo’s luck is just more and more of the same shit he has dealt with his entire life.

Jesse tilts back his hat. “Uh...” Even dumbfounded, he’s still beautiful.

 _Genji_ , a voice inside of Hanzo hisses. _Find Genji._ Hanzo forces his eyes away from Jesse to try and gather his thoughts for a moment.

A shadow steps away from the wall, emerging into the dim light and Hanzo jumps backward. “Nice work,” the man in black says. He’s still eeriely scentless, as if he doesn’t exist at all. And maybe he doesn’t. “Hawk just got the two out back.” He walks past them and kneels down to check the man at Hanzo’s feet for a pulse. “Get Hanzo to the extraction site.”

Jesse shakes himself free of his confusion, like a dog shedding water. “Sure thing, boss,” he says and reaches out a hand to grab Hanzo’s arm. 

Hanzo easily dodges. “Where is my brother?” he demands, his tongue finally deciding to voice what his heart has been screaming at him.

“Safe,” the man in black says.

“Found him before we found you,” Jesse adds. “Now, if you’ll just...” He tries to herd Hanzo again and Hanzo spins, putting him into the wall and pinning him there. “Jesus!” Jesse swears as he tries to extract his nose. “Gentle, Darlin’...” Jesse is taller, but muscle-wise he and Hanzo are about equal and there is no way that Hanzo is going to let the alpha up. Though he can’t deny how much his body wants to lean up against Jesse and just breath in deep… Hanzo grits his teeth.

The man in black’s lips curl into a smile. It’s about as reassuring as a snake’s. “As funny as it is to watch McCree get his ass beat, it’ll be easier on everyone if you just go where he takes you. That’s where your brother is.”

“And why should I believe anything you say?” Hanzo demands. He tightens his grip on Jesse’s arm and the alpha lets out an undignified squeal.

“ _Ow! Easy, there, alright? Damn, that hurts!_ ” 

Unconcerned about Jesse’s plight, the man in black glances around in a show of searching for answers then comes back to Hanzo’s face and shrugs. “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. That’s where he is.”

“I’m sure he’d be mighty pleased to see you,” Jesse adds hurriedly. Hanzo glances between Jesse and his boss then growls as he makes his decision. Jesse shakes out his wrist as Hanzo releases him. “That’s my shootin’ hand,” he mutters.

“Extraction site,” Jesse boss says. “Now.”

“Goin’.” Jesse gestures a hand towards the dark hallway his boss had emerged from. Hanzo readies himself to put Jesse into the wall again if Jesse tries to touch him like before. “I ain’t going to touch you. Done learned my lesson.” He rubs his nose. “It hurt, too.”

“My sympathies,” Hanzo tells him flatly.

Jesse nods and gestures down the hallway again. “If you would?”

It’s not like he has a better option. Hanzo grabs up his bow and the knife that had been knocked away from him earlier and follows Jesse into the darkness.

* * *

In the dark, the events of the night give the familiar halls of Hanzo’s home an eerie feeling and he knows that he is passing bodies as he walks. Some are familiar. Most are not. He makes sure that he looks at each one that is visible, just to make sure that none of them are his brother or his father. The few he recognizes are bad enough. Some guards, some servants.

And through it all, is the lingering alpha scent of Jesse. Hanzo wants to puke. This is all so wrong. Why is Jesse here? His boss?

And where is Genji and Father?

Jesse leads him to one of the temples on the grounds and Hanzo pauses as he realizes that a large, black helicopter is sitting like a looming bird of prey beside it.

“My brother?” Hanzo asks. This must be the ‘extraction site.’ Jesse can now show the truth of his words or get on with whatever else he has planned. If Genji is still alive, then Hanzo might not have much time left to find him.

“Didn’t know you were a Shimada,” Jesse says, his fingers playing with the brim of his hat. In another lifetime, Hanzo might have found it charming. However, this is not the conversation Hanzo wants to have right now. 

“My brother!”

Jesse’s head bobs in a nod. “He’s in there.” Jesse points to the helicopter.

Hanzo’s skin prickles in warning even before he starts to see the shadows move.

“There’s just a slight problem...”

Hanzo stares into the darkness, trying to count how many enemies have hidden themselves. The odds are not in his favor. He could kill Jesse, but he knows he would be dead shortly after. Like a fool, he’d let himself be trapped. He turns and looks at Jesse’s face, hating that he still finds the man attractive. Devils come in all sorts of guises. “And what would that be?” he asks, stalling for a little bit more time. Maybe some of the guards…?

Hanzo knows it’s hopeless but it isn’t in his nature to simply accept this situation. He is a Shimada and he will act like it, not like the scared omega the dead men back in the house had come to abduct.

“Well...He, uh...” Jesse lifts his hat and scratches his head. “He didn’t necessarily go willingly, if you know what I mean.”

A few soldiers emerge from the darkness, slipping out of the shadows not unlike the man in black still in the house. Unlike Jesse and his boss, however, they are wearing their uniform, shoulder patches proudly declaring them part of Overwatch. Overwatch, the organization that has been angling to remove Hanzo’s clan from power for years now—Hanzo is truly stupid.

Hanzo looks at Jesse, admiring his face even as he says, “I will kill you.”

Jesse nods. “You’ll have to get in line there, Darlin’. It’s gettin’ kind of long.” He puts his hands on his hips and drops his head, hat obscuring his face for a moment before he glances back up. “For what it’s worth, I really wish you weren’t a Shimada. I kind of liked you when you were just the pretty omega looking for someone to bed him.”

Hanzo brutally shoves down the urge to move closer to Jesse, to touch him like his body craves. “I wish you weren’t you as well,” he confesses quietly before the soldiers converge on them. Jesse steps back as Hanzo is ordered to his knees, restraints placed on his wrists. He is hauled upwards and dragged towards the helicopter as Jesse walks beside him. There’s something about Jesse’s frown that suggests sadness but Hanzo is apathetic. Jesse is the enemy.

The soldiers push him into the helicopter and Hanzo’s heart skips a beat when he sees the shock of green hair. Genji isn’t moving and Hanzo desperately wants to shake off his handlers and run to Genji’s side but he doesn’t dare betray his feelings in such a way. If he let his captors know just how much they could use Genji against him, it wouldn’t end well for either of them. Instead, he studies the body, and forgets himself for a moment when he notices that Genji is indeed still breathing.

“He’s alive,” Jesse tells him as he climbs on board behind Hanzo. “Just out cold.” Hanzo shoots him a glare, then looks back at Genji. Alive. For now. That is the best that Hanzo can hope for considering the circumstances.

“Got Sojiro’s precious omega, huh?” one of the soldiers says to Jesse, a lewd grin breaking his face in two. “He smell as good as they say?”

Some small part of Hanzo curls inward at that, wanting to protect himself from everything that his teachers had ever warned him about, but Hanzo’s pride keeps his spine straight and his body still. The man leers at Hanzo like a slobbering dog and Hanzo pointedly looks away. The man laughs. “Every inch the princess, too. Daddy’s not here to protect you, you know, princess.”

“Shut your mouth,” Jesse snaps and steps between Hanzo and the soldier. He gestures for Hanzo to sit next to where Genji is strapped into a seat.

“Oh, McCree. You taken in by getting a little whiff of a high class omega? Bet he smells better than anything you can afford, that’s for sure. You know he’s too expensive for you. Could get a taste right now, if you wanted to. Nobody has to know.” Indeed, restrained as he is, there is little that Hanzo could do to fight back if anyone wanted to take advantage of him. The fact that it’s Jesse who is in such a position, the man who was supposed to be Hanzo’s one bright memory, the alpha he _chose_ instead of the one that was forced on him, makes it worse.

“I said _shut your mouth_.” Jesse swings around to face the man, his hand rising to hover over the gun at his side. The man chuckles, obviously unafraid, but says no more. Hanzo keeps his head high as he is buckled in next to Genji.

The man in black jumps on board soon after and Jesse slaps the pilot on the shoulder. “Boss is back. Take us up.”

The engines whirl to life and Hanzo lets himself shift just enough to put himself in contact with Genji’s body—with Genji’s still breathing body. The man in black looks at Hanzo, his eyes far too knowing, and Hanzo won’t meet his gaze. “Sorry, kid,” the man says and the craft lurches into the air.

A male omega is said to bring good fortune. This, Hanzo thinks, is anything but.


	5. Fruitfulness

The man in black— _Reyes_ , he had said his name was—had called it a room but Hanzo wasn’t fooled. The “room” that Genji and he have found themselves in is a cell. It has pretty decorations and a veneer of the niceties of life, but it’s all simply an illusion, betrayed by the fact that it is in the middle of a military installation. An _Overwatch_ military installation.

There are no windows and the only door is locked from the outside with armed guards. It’s a cell.

Reyes had left almost immediately, leaving Hanzo with unanswered questions clamoring over themselves in his mind. Jesse—Jesse McCree of _Overwatch_ —carries Genji in and sets him down on the large bed, deceitfully gentle in how he handles Genji’s comatose body. 

‘Deceitful’ is hardly fair. After all, it’s not exactly as if Jesse had ever lied to Hanzo about who he really was. Hanzo had just never _asked_. He had stupidly taken the cowboy at face value and not bothered to look any deeper. That was a poor choice for a Shimada. Enemies await around every corner and Hanzo _knows_ that, yet he had been so ready to believe. He’d _let_ the alpha take advantage of him, to his eternal shame.

If it weren’t for bad luck, Hanzo would have no luck at all.

The only bit of hope that Hanzo has right now is that Genji is here with him, not dead back in Hanamura or whisked away to some other location, but here, where Hanzo has maybe a chance of protecting him. Not that Genji would see it that way, Hanzo’s sure. When Genji wakes— _when he wakes_ , because he will definitely wake up again, Hanzo has to believe—Genji will undoubtedly attempt to take on the role of the head alpha. He’ll growl and posture and threaten and try to keep Hanzo from doing the same. With their father not here, however, there’s not a chance in hell of Hanzo keeping to the soft demeanor expected of omegas—not unless the facade of it will gain him and Genji an advantage to exploit.

“Where is my father?” Hanzo demands once Jesse has safely moved away from Genji. Reyes and Jesse had both assured Hanzo that his father was safe but their words mean little to Hanzo. He looks at Genji’s still form and clenches his fists to stop himself from lashing out like he so much wants to. Unmoving, laid out on the bed in only his thin sleep clothes, Genji looks as if he—no. Hanzo cannot afford such thoughts. He must focus. There had better not be any lasting damage or Hanzo will tear this place down with his bare hands if he has to, chained as they are or no. “Where have you placed his body?”

Shimada Sojiro might be dead somewhere in the back end of Hanamura and there is no way for Hanzo to know for sure unless he sees his father for himself.

“I wasn’t lying,” Jesse says. “Your father’s still alive. He’s just...”

“Just what?”

Jesse sighs. “Not here.”

“Then where?”

Jesse motions for the other guard to go to Genji while he approaches Hanzo with the key for the cuffs. “Everyone’s got different roles to play is all. He’s not here because he has to be elsewhere. And I don’t know anything more than that.” He reaches for Hanzo’s wrists and Hanzo jerks them out of reach, not wanting the alpha to touch him.

It is too painful—memories and hopes and dashed dreams all wrapped up in a touch. It is bad enough that he can _smell_ Jesse, can feel him on his skin even without Jesse physically touching him. He doesn’t need the alpha’s touch as a reminder of just how stupidly naive he had been.

Hanzo’s heat is entirely too near. He’s brutally reminded of that each time he dares to _breathe_ in Jesse’s presence. It’s painful to think about, made even worse by the fact that just a few short days ago, Hanzo would have welcomed a chance to spend a heat cycle with the man in front of him.

Jesse cocks his head, eyes dropping down to Hanzo’s cuffs then coming back up. “You want those off or not?”

“Have that one do it,” Hanzo spits, jerking his head at the beta guard accompanying Jesse. “I do not wish to be touched by your filthy hands.”

“Wasn’t too long ago you _liked_ being touched by my ‘filthy hands’,” Jesse says mockingly, his mouth tugging downward into a frown.

“It wasn’t too long ago I thought you were a man of honor,” Hanzo shoots back and Jesse doesn’t bother to argue with that, simply nods in agreement.

“When I think about it, it was hardly fair,” he says instead. “You knowing who I was, me not having a clue about you...”

Hanzo barks a laugh. “Evidently, _neither_ of us knew who the other was.”

That one strikes a bit of a nerve based on how Jesse looks away. Hanzo tallies it up as a point for him. The beta, finished with removing Genji’s cuffs, comes over to Hanzo with the keys.

“Your father knew,” Jesse tells the floor.

The cuffs drop away from Hanzo’s wrists and he rubs them to get a little bit of numbness out. If an opportunity arises, he must be able to take it. “That you were Overwatch? I doubt that.” To associate with Overwatch was to betray the clan. Hanzo doesn’t pretend to know his father’s every thought but he is certain that Sojiro would rather bite off his own tongue than go against his clan.

“Believe what you want, Honeybee. I won’t say that your dad’s the best guy in the world, but there sure are worse pieces of shit out in the world and not all of them have been playing so nice. Sojiro was in the market for a little help and we were offerin’ a heck of a deal.”

“Ah, yes, I see you helped yourself quite readily to many of my father’s things.” A flush steals across Jesse’s checks and the man glances away. Apparently, he has a sense of shame after all.

It makes the man somehow even more attractive and Hanzo curses himself silently for a fool. Jesse, he tries to tell himself, is a ridiculous caricature of man, an anachronism of a romanticized past and Hanzo has _no business_ finding such silly things appealing.

The knowledge that some might consider him to be an anachronism as well isn’t lost on him. Between the two of them, however, Hanzo thinks Jesse is worse. Hanzo doesn’t wear spurs as least.

 _Spurs._ As if there might be a horse just outside the door waiting for Jesse to start riding out into the sunset on to join up with the Pony Express in the Old West.

“Didn’t mean it like that,” Jesse says softly. “Look, Hanzo, you’re not… This doesn’t have to be...” Hanzo raises his eyebrows, waiting for Jesse’s foolhardy brain to settle on whatever it is he is attempting to say. “You’re not a prisoner or anything...”

“I see.” Hanzo makes a show of glancing around the room and then points at the door. “If I were to walk through that door, I would not be stopped?”

Jesse’s mouth draws downward into a frown again. “Yeah, you’d be stopped,” he admits.

“Then I am a prisoner. You have taken me from my home and held me against my will—”

“We saved your ass,” Jesse snaps. “You forget about that? If it weren’t for us, you and your brother, you’d likely be dead—”

“Hardly—”

“And Tenaka Goro, he’s still out there and he ain’t the only one—he’s just the latest. And probably the stupidest.”

“Tenaka Goro is a—” shit stain upon humanity, an oozing pustule of a man, and a waste of the very air he breathes. Hanzo thinks all of these, but voices none as Jesse is already talking over him.

“So think about that. How many others there are out there, just waiting for a chance to get a piece of you and yours!”

“And you will protect us?” Hanzo snarls. How utterly preposterous. And arrogant. So typically Overwatch to think that their help is needed and force themselves into situations where they do not belong.

“Well, yeah!” Jesse throws his arms wide. “You’re here, aren’t you? ‘Stead of being _dead_ or shipped off to God knows where.”

“ _Half_ -right,” Hanzo shouts and steps into Jesse’s space, his anger getting the better of him. No, he’s not dead but his father may very well be and the second part of Jesse’s argument is laughably untrue as here he is, shipped off to God knows where. “Or would you care to tell me where your secret helicopters have placed us?”

Jesse snaps his jaw shut, visibly struggling with himself as he looks down at Hanzo before he firmly takes a step back. He holds hands out as a vague sort of peace offering. “I’m just sayin’, better here than kidnapped by your ex-fiance as something to hold over your father’s head.”

Hanzo smiles mirthlessly. “No. Instead, I have been kidnapped by _Overwatch_ as something to hold over my father’s head.”

“Well, sorry you feel that way, but I’m not sorry you’re here.” Jesse stomps out of the room, demanding that the beta follow. 

The beta looks at the thundering storm cloud that is Jesse McCree at the moment, and the raging storm that undoubtedly is equally visible upon Hanzo’s own face. “We’ll get the doc to check you guys out,” the beta says, then follows Jesse out into the hallway, the door locking behind him.

All targets for his rage now out of sight, Hanzo takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down. He will get nothing done in the murky fog that is his anger and it is more than his own safety he is vying for. He’d do well to remember that. He sits down on the bed next to Genji and finally gives in to the urge to gently push back a lock of green hair from Genji’s face.

He hopes that Genji wakes up soon. Together, they might be able to come up with a plan. In the meantime, Hanzo supposes he should busy himself with gathering up their options. He starts to make his way around the room, mentally cataloging anything that might be used as a weapon and possible means of escape.

The number of items on either list is distressingly low.

* * *

Hanzo is on the edge of sleep when Genji groans and rolls onto his side. Genji drops an arm over his head and groans again, evidently finding consciousness to be a painful struggle. “So you are finally awake,” Hanzo says softly, letting Genji know that he is near without Genji having to open his eyes just yet. He shifts to face Genji more fully on the bed.

“Hanzo?” Genji asks. His eyes open reluctantly and he blinks at Hanzo before closing his right eye again, relying only on his left. “Are you in my room?”

Hanzo shakes his head. “No.”

“Oh...” Genji frowns. “Am I in yours?” He grimaces and cups a hand over the right side of his face. “My head feels like someone’s been kicking it across a field… Did I go out drinking?”

“No,” Hanzo says to both questions.

“No? Then why does my head hurt so much?” Hanzo wishes he had an answer for that. He has no idea what Overwatch did to render Genji unconscious, but he does know that it is probably something he would have stabbed somebody for. 

Genji pushes himself upward and slowly cranes his head around, surveying the confines of their cell: the false trimmings of the lap of luxury. The carpet is plush, the walls a subtle peach, and the furniture is well padded when directly on the other side of the door is nothing but gray, concrete, and metal. “...Where are we?”

“Ha,” Hanzo huffs and sits up as well. That is indeed the question to ask. They had been in the air for literal hours. They could be almost anywhere. “We are the ‘honored guests’ of Overwatch.” It is the best answer that he has. “In one of their secret bases. They didn’t care to tell me where.”

Genji snaps back around to Hanzo, and regrets the sudden movement, hissing when his head protests. “Overwatch? How—?” He pauses in mid-sentence and groans. “ _Fuck._ ” Genji drops his head into his hands and scrubs his face. “I remember… Invaders? Those bastards...”

“Did you see them?”

Genji slides his hands upward to pull at his hair. “Yeah. They...they weren’t Overwatch, though. I don’t think. They weren’t...organized enough.” Genji looks up at Hanzo as he attempts to puzzle it out. “I didn’t see who hit me. I was killing one and another hit me from behind.”

“There were two groups in the house.” Supposedly. Hanzo isn’t ruling out that Tenaka Goro’s actions weren’t engineered by Overwatch in the first place, or at least helped along. That would be exactly like something that they would do. That way, their hands would be clean and they could claim that they had stepped in merely as a peacekeeping maneuver. They get everything they want and some good press as well. 

“Two?” Genji’s brow furls in deeper confusion. “Who else?”

Hanzo’s fists grip the bed sheet beneath him. “My illustrious fiance,” Hanzo says mockingly. What a wonderful choice his father had made in selecting, of all of the alphas in the world, that piece of shit. If there is any justice at all in the world, Hanzo hopes that Tenaka Goro’s choices catch up to him soon. Perhaps even Overwatch might have taken care of it already. They liked to pretend that they were squeaky-clean but there were rumors of a hidden underbelly to the organization that handled such things. “They were there at least in part to take me to him.”

Genji’s face twists into a snarl. “That asshole. He will pay.” Galvanized by the words, Genji slides off the bed and onto his feet. His knees attempt to buckle but he holds himself upright.

“Careful!” Hanzo holds out a hand to catch him in case he needs it. “You were out for a long time.”

“How long?” Genji asks.

Hanzo shrugs. “Half a day?” He has no way of knowing for sure between the lengthy flight and their accommodations. Overwatch has made sure that there was no way of keeping track of time in the room, most likely deliberately so. Another piece of the illusion of civility.

Genji starts across the room, undoubtedly surveying the space just as Hanzo had done before him. Hanzo knows that, like him, Genji will not likely be appeased without seeing for himself, but he gives Genji his assessment anyway. “No actual weapons. The chairs or the stand could be used in a pinch. The table would be harder but it could also be utilized. No free heavy objects and the light fixtures are bolted to the wall. We could get them free but it will take some doing.”

Genji’s frown deepens as he starts to verify just that. “That’s disappointing.” Even one object could make a difference for them. A good weapon could give them the opportunity that they needed to escape. Genji pauses, straightening as he sniffs the air. “Why does this room smell like alpha?” He slowly turns around to face Hanzo and Hanzo looks away. He knows that it will not help Genji’s suspicions but he also knows what Genji is truly asking and Hanzo cannot face the shame that he has garnered for himself. Even Genji’s worst suspicions were true, it would not matter anyway. Hanzo had given that away freely to that very same alpha. The alpha would have gained nothing new. 

“Hanzo?” Genji hurries back to the bed and slides across it to sit beside Hanzo. “What happened?” His hand grips Hanzo’s shoulder, lightly shaking him. “Did they hurt you?”

“It’s not that,” he says. 

“Do you swear? They didn’t touch you? Hanzo, if they touched you—” 

Hanzo shakes his head. “No, they didn’t touch me.” In fact, beyond the lewd suggestions of a few and his escort into the room, the agents of Overwatch had mostly ignored him. A few off-color suggestions wasn’t anything Hanzo couldn’t handle. “And the men sent to retrieve me are dead.” Killed either by his hands or Jesse’s. 

_Jesse_. The one indulgent fantasy he had ever allowed himself and it was nothing but a lie. 

“Then why do you avoid looking at me?” Genji demands.

 _Shame,_ Hanzo thinks, and finally gives Genji at least part of the answer. “The cowboy is from Overwatch.”

“Cowboy? What cow—do you mean _Jesse?_ ” Genji asks in disbelief. Hanzo can understand the confusion. Such a strange man doesn’t seem to fit the idea of the uniformed soldiers. Then again, Overwatch does have a reputation for a bit of...uniqueness up at the top. If Hanzo remembers correctly, one of their top scientists is a genetically modified _gorilla_ …

After that, a man who wears spurs isn’t anything too out of the ordinary.

Hanzo nods. “He escorted us here. And nothing else has happened so you may put your worries away for the time being.” This time. Hanzo isn’t quite ready to divulge that secret, however. He doesn’t need Genji’s pity nor his rage in this situation and either is quite likely. He needs a calm, thinking Genji, not one only concerned with ‘protecting’ Hanzo.

“Oh, Hanzo. I am sorry.” That is not the reaction that Hanzo wanted.

“Your apology is not needed. Neither of us had any way of knowing.” Their father, however, might have a lot that he will need to answer for, but that is not their immediate concern. At this moment, they need to simply escape. Hanzo will worry about if their father truly had been communicating with agents of Overwatch and if so why later.

“I know you liked him.” 

Oh, yes, did Hanzo like him. Or at least the idea of him as it is apparent that Hanzo had no idea who Jesse McCree really was. “It does not matter.” 

Genji grabs Hanzo’s hand and holds it tightly. “We will make him regret ever setting foot in Hanamura,” Genji promises and Hanzo looks at his little brother, his heart thudding in his chest when for the first time, he sees the mark of their heritage staring back at him in Genji’s familiar eyes: the commitment of a killer. He is reminded that Genji, for all of his irreverence and silliness, is a Shimada as well, trained to be ruthless and deadly. Hanzo is unsure if he should mourn their nonexistent childhood or feel pride in Genji finally taking his place on the path of their ancestors. What a confusing time that they are living in.

Despite all of it, Hanzo nods in agreement. “Yes.” He and Genji will have their revenge. How, he doesn’t know, nor does he have time to contemplate it when there are other things to consider, but they will make it happen. Their pride demands it. First, however, they will survive this.

A knock is their only warning before the door opens and three unfamiliar soldiers file inside. Hanzo lets out the breath that he hadn’t known that he was holding when he realizes that Jesse is not among them. It shouldn’t matter to him but yet somehow it does.

“Why are you holding us here?” Genji demands. The soldiers look at him blankly. Above their pay grade is the clear insinuation.

“We’re taking you to the doc,” one says.

“And who is that?”

The soldier shrugs. “The doc. She needs to make sure that you and your brother aren’t injured.” 

Genji pauses in mid-bark and turns to frown at Hanzo. Hanzo can already guess his thoughts. They are most likely along the same lines as Hanzo’s at this moment. Genji was obviously injured during the raid back in Hanamura if his unconsciousness on the helicopter is anything to go by. Having him see a doctor, even an Overwatch doctor, would be a good thing. Actually, an Overwatch doctor might be even better with all their access to the latest in medical technology. 

The soldiers back out of the room and beckon for them to follow. Genji crosses his arms, refusing to play along, but Hanzo moves forward. It would be ridiculous for them to simply stay in the room, even if this might be some kind of complicated trap. The chance for Genji to be able to see a doctor is something that they need to take advantage of if they are going to be able to somehow escape. Both of them will need to be at full strength. Genji tries to catch him, but Hanzo snags his hand first and pulls him along out the door. Also, mapping the interior of the complex is a priority for them and any time that they can spend outside of their cell is for the best.

They are taken through a warren of identical hallways, stretch after stretch of gray wall and functional lighting. They pass emergency shutdown doors, checkpoints, armed guards: everything that is a stark contrast to the lie of their room. The hallways don’t bother to hide what they are. They loudly proclaim that they are a part of a military installation. Hanzo carefully notes each obstacle, tallying them up in his mind, mentally reducing his and Genji’s chances for each one.

Escaping will be...difficult.

It seems as if he and Genji are being kept deep in a major hub, surrounded by Overwatch personnel. They must be considered valuable. He wonders what Overwatch wants to keep such collateral as both him and Genji—and to try and maintain the fiction that they are only “guests” rather than prisoners. It would have been easier to have thrown him and his brother into a dark pit somewhere and have forgotten about them but for some reason, Overwatch has chosen this option instead.

Hanzo wonders how much of this has been planned and how much has simply been made up as events unfold. 

The latest generic hallway that they are traveling through opens up into a glassed in area and the soldiers pause as one punches in a code to allow them in. A large white machine beeps steadily to their right when they enter, tubes and cords emerging from it to connect to others, and the entire room is very much the same, filled with beeping and blinking technology, all the same sterile white color. And amid it all is an angel.

She sits on a stool in the center of the room, her blonde hair done up in a ponytail and her white lab coat lightly scraping the ground as she makes notes on her clipboard. There is something about the room and the technology around her that has provided a backlight, making it seem as if she has a halo. It certainly doesn’t hinder the angel comparison.

In the air, is a faint scent of alpha. It is soft, slightly sweet, and almost barely noticeable. Hanzo finds himself drawn to it and he stares at her, transfixed. He has never met an alpha with such a delicate scent. 

Then again, it isn’t as if he has met many alphas, either. 

With his heat lying in wait to ensnare him at any moment and his nose filled with the sweet scent of an alpha, Hanzo is steadily being pulled in to her orbit like gravity. He sways towards her. It is only when Genji catches him staring does he manage to look away, a small flush infusing his cheeks.

“I’ll be right with you...” she says absently and writes a bit more. Then, as if something catches her attention, she looks up and clucks disapprovingly. “Are those really necessary?” she asks, looking pointedly at the guns.

The soldier to Hanzo’s left nods. “You know that they’d kill us all right now if they could, right, doc? They’ve been trained as assassins since birth.”

“Honestly,” the doctor huffs. “I think we can trust our guests a little bit more.” 

There’s that word again.

Genji shrugs with a smirk, his boastful nature getting the better of him. “I am very good with a blade,” he says. His boasting isn’t exactly unwarranted. A good blade would be all that Genji would need to take out all the three of the guards and start their bid for freedom. The automatic rifles wouldn’t even stand a chance, Hanzo’s sure. 

While Genji distracts the room with his preening and his own reverie momentarily broken, Hanzo surreptitiously scans the room for anything that might be used as a weapon. Disappointingly, all he seems to find are the high tech machines beeping and blinking. There are a few items that could be used as a blunt object, but nothing seemingly sharp. He and Genji would need quick and decisive to be able to overtake the guards before their bullets hit. They don’t have time to beat the guards to death with an improvised weapon.

The doctor rolls her eyes and gestures towards some examination tables along the side of the room. “I am Dr. Angela Ziegler. If you would please have a seat? I can do a checkup fairly quickly.”

Hanzo is about to protest having an alpha doctor out of pure habit but shuts his mouth when Genji steps forward. “Oh course, Doctor Ziegler. It would be an honor,” Genji purrs and scampers over to the table. Doctor Ziegler blinks at him. “Do you need me to take off my shirt?” Genji asks, already lifting the light sleeping shirt he had been captured in. How utterly shameless.

“I...” The shirt slides up to bare Genji’s stomach and, professional though she is, the doctor’s eyes drop down to take in the free show. 

Genji plays with the waistband of his sweatpants as well. “I can take off my pants too...” 

Flirting, Hanzo thinks faintly. His little brother is flirting with the pretty doctor. With the pretty _alpha_ doctor. The pretty alpha _Overwatch_ doctor.

Hanzo doesn’t know which one would appall their father more—the homosexual flirtation or the fact that Doctor Ziegler is from Overwatch. Either way, it is a good thing that Father isn’t with them. Hanzo can only imagine what the reaction would be.

He squashes the irrational bit of jealousy that is niggling at the back of his brain at the thought that Genji thinks that he can get away with such behavior. And that maybe Father would have let him. Father had always been less strict with Genji than Hanzo, allowing the alpha son far more liberties than his omega son.

“ _Genji_ ,” Hanzo hisses, convinced that his younger brother has indeed lost his mind, and Genji jumps. He throws a guilty look at Hanzo and rights his clothes, abashed.

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary,” Doctor Ziegler says blandly as she approaches the table, making a few notations on her clipboard. “Unless you are experiencing any pain?”

Genji slowly shakes his head. “I am not in any pain,” he replies, a lie if Hanzo has ever heard one because Genji’s head must still be attempting to split in two.

“Hmm.” Doctor Ziegler unhooks a device from the wall and slowly starts to run it over Genji, watching the monitor as she does so. Some sort of scanner, Hanzo decides. “Everything appears to be in order. However...” She pulls out a pen light and tilts Genji’s head up to check his eyes. “Commander Reyes said that you took a blow to the head before he could get to you and that you might have a possible concussion. Surely a headache at least.”

“I am healthy.” Genji thumps his chest in emphasis.

“Which would be easy for me to fix,” Doctor Ziegler continues as if Genji hadn’t said anything at all. “I know a cure that can instantly relieve a headache.”

Genji’s smile widens a bit more. “Well. Perhaps I have a small ache, then.”

Doctor Ziegler’s resulting smile is small but somehow more triumphant than Genji’s. “I thought that might be the case. Luckily, I am well-versed in dealing with headaches. She gracefully leaves her stool to grab a staff from the corner. “Now, just—”

Hanzo steps between Genji and the returning doctor, eyeing the staff with suspicion. She brings it close to her, keeping her body posture non-threatening, but Hanzo doesn’t believe her. She is a part of Overwatch and therefore immediately suspect. “It is a medical device,” she says. “It heals.”

“Hanzo,” Genji says, with a confidence born of being an alpha, “I do not believe Doctor Ziegler means me any harm.”

“I swore an oath and I intend to keep it,” Doctor Ziegler says. “The Caduceus Staff promotes healing using nanobiology. I have spent years developing it. I assure you, it is the fastest way to relive pain and heal wounds.” She holds out the staff towards Hanzo. “You are welcome to inspect it if you like.” 

As if he would know what he was looking at if he were to take it from her. He wouldn’t be able to tell if the staff healed using nanobiology or used the same technology to rip apart unfortunate victims at the cellular level. Instead, he would have to just take her at her word—take an _Overwatch operative’s_ word.

When Hanzo makes no motion to take the staff, Doctor Ziegler slowly pulls it away. After a moment, she slips by and Hanzo lets her go without further protest, though he fully intends to watch her carefully.

Genji’s smile returns as the doctor comes closer and Hanzo rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics. Utterly shameless. 

“Will this hurt?” Genji asks, pretending to be shy by looking up at the doctor from underneath his eyelashes. Hanzo huffs and looks away for a brief moment. He doesn’t know how much of this he will be able to take.

“No more than it already does,” Doctor Ziegler replies matter-of-factly. “Though you might feel a slight warming sensation.”

“Oh, it must be working then, because I do feel that.” Hanzo rolls his eyes. His brother is ridiculous.

Doctor Ziegler pauses, glancing down at Genji. “I haven’t activated it yet,” she says.

“Oh. That must be something else that I am feeling, then.”

“Most certainly. Now, if you would please hold still, this will only take a moment...” She tips the staff towards Genji and shifts her grip, causing a thin yellow beam to emerge and latch onto Genji.

“What is—oh!” Hanzo moves towards Genji, ready to rip him away from the effects of the staff but Genji holds up a hand to stop him. “That is warm.”

“It is a side effect of the tech,” Doctor Ziegler says and turns off the beam. “How is your pain now?”

Genji blinks, accessing himself, then turns and looks at the pretty doctor. “Gone,” he says. “You are a miracle worker, Doctor.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But the technology is quite effective.”

“It is indeed,” Genji replies and shakes his head, testing out his new headache free status. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“My pleasure,” Doctor Ziegler says with a smile. She turns towards Hanzo. “Now, if I could—”

Hanzo instinctively steps back as the alpha approaches him. Unassuming scent or not, she is still an alpha and therefore everything that he has been taught to avoid. Before he can do much more than that, however, Genji is on his feet and putting himself firmly in between Hanzo and the doctor.

“Oh!” she exclaims and backpedals. A metal tray crashes to the ground, toppled by her free hand. Behind them, Hanzo hears the soldiers raise their guns, preparing to fire if need be, and he spares them a quick glance before turning back to his brother. Hanzo stares as Genji has to visually rein himself back in, hiding his intimidating alpha snarl behind a fake smile and Hanzo’s heart thuds in his chest, innate fear of the display of alpha anger prickling along his skin. He takes a deep, steadying breath, and holds himself still despite how much his body is screaming for him to put some distance between himself and Genji. It is Genji. He has nothing to fear from his brother. 

“I don’t think it would be very appropriate for you to touch my brother, Doctor,” Genji says quietly. “You are an alpha, after all.”

Tradition keeps Hanzo’s mouth closed. Once again, he is being protected by an alpha, and all is as he has been taught. This is supposed to be right— _correct_ —and yet Hanzo hates it. He hates being considered _weak_ and in need of protection, let alone by his younger brother of all people. Hanzo is a Shimada and all that entails. His Shimada pride demands that he speak for himself, make his own choices, rather than hide behind an alpha.

Tradition, however, dictates that he play the part of the submissive omega.

“O-oh,” Doctor Ziegler says shakily as what Genji is saying to her clicks in her head. “Of course. Please forgive my rudeness. I’m sure we can find a non-alpha to—”

Hanzo is sick of this.

“Actually, doctor,” Hanzo says, stepping out from behind Genji. “I would not mind being examined by you.”

“Anija!” Genji grabs for Hanzo but Hanzo shakes him off.

“She treated you, did she not?” Hanzo asks—in Japanese rather than English. He doesn’t know if Doctor Ziegler knows their native language or not but this is a conversation between him and his brother.

When Genji replies, it is also in Japanese. “That’s different—” 

“I hardly see why,” Hanzo interrupts. He knows what Genji’s point is, just as he knows that he personally doesn’t care.

“ _Hanzo_. This is not appropriate.” Genji seizes Hanzo’s arm and Hanzo glares at him. 

“Any more appropriate than you flirting with the Overwatch alpha?” The words are more effective than a slap. Genji drops his hand.

“That is...”

“Different?” Hanzo finishes, the word containing all the venom of a snake bite.

Genji’s face crumples into an unhappy pout at his warnings going unheeded. He huffs out a frustrated breath and steps in close to Hanzo, whispering, “You are an omega.”

Yes. Hanzo is aware of that. “She is a doctor.”

“An _alpha_ doctor,” Genji hisses.

“That managed to treat you with no ill repercussions.”

“ _Hanzo_.”

Hanzo pushes Genji away. “Are you ready, doctor?” he asks Doctor Ziegler in English.

Doctor Ziegler looks back and forth between the two of them. “Ah...”

“What would Father say?” Genji shouts after him.

Hanzo stops in mid-step, guilt and shock radiating through him—guilt for he knows exactly what would be said and shock because he would never have believed that Genji of all people would invoke their father. Genji, with his blaze of green hair and lack of respect for all things traditional, hasn’t put much stock in what their father has had to say since he was 12.

But he knows that Hanzo does. Has.

Hanzo turns around slowly to face his brother once more. Genji stares back at him, half a scared little brother and half an outraged alpha, evidently torn between which one he should be at this moment.

“I would imagine...” Hanzo starts, carefully spacing out his words, “that Father would throw me across the room again and possibly lock me in my room with armed guards until he could marry me off to the first suitable alpha willing to pay for my bride price.”

The memories contained in Hanzo’s words drain the anger from Genji’s face and he drops his eyes. “I am sure I will be fine,” Hanzo adds, feeling an urge to reassure Genji in some small way. Genji gives a small nod.

Picking up on the cues if not the exact words, Doctor Ziegler moves into place beside Hanzo, though he notes that she is still careful to keep her distance. “Are you experiencing any pain?” she asks as she waves her scanner over him.

Hanzo shakes his head. “No.”

She pauses. “Would you tell me if you were?”

A small smiles crosses Hanzo’s face, startled out of him by the doctor’s insight. “No,” he admits honestly.

“And this?” she asks, her hand reaching out to briefly point at a spot on Hanzo’s clothes. Though she doesn’t connect, Hanzo’s body still shudders in anticipation of an alpha’s touch. He grits his teeth. His heat is too close for comfort. His instincts are crying out for him to find an alpha—any alpha.

He metaphorically takes a hold of himself with both hands. He will not be that omega that his old teacher whispered about, desperate for an alpha’s attention. He _refuses_.

“It isn’t mine,” he rasps. The spot that the doctor is pointing to is from a dead man back in Hanamura. Hanzo takes a deep breath and regrets it when it fills his lungs with Doctor Ziegler’s pleasant scent.

She would be gentle with him, he knows. Gentler than Jesse, even. And sweet. She’s beautiful besides. Everything about her says that she would be an incredibly suitable heat partner and his body is quickly sliding past the point of caring. If he won’t go to the alpha that has filled his mind for the past month, then his body will settle for the next best thing on hand.

Doctor Ziegler pushes a lock of blonde hair behind her ear—a gesture that appears incongruously nervous compared to the rest of her posture. She slides a little closer, making her scent slightly stronger, and looks up at Hanzo. Her eyes are the bluest Hanzo has ever seen, like a clear summer sky. “We will...” she starts, her voice a mere whisper between them. Anyone else would have to strain to hear what she has to say. “...have to make some preparations, soon, I think, Mr. Shimada.” Hanzo blinks at her as his mind pieces together her words. When he has assembled the whole picture, he flushes slightly and looks away. “Am I correct?”

“Yes,” Hanzo whispers back. He grimaces at having to admit it out loud. Equal amounts of shame and fear twine inside of him. It is utterly humiliating that he is about to spend a heat in Overwatch custody—humiliating and terrifying. There is no telling what they will do. In public, in the media, Overwatch loves to preach about its moral code, its ethical treatment, but Hanzo is well aware that those words only stretch so far. Overwatch has deep roots, some of which never see the light of civilization. 

He knows that he doesn’t want to see its bottom.

“There is nothing to worry about. We will take care of everything.”

She means it to be reassuring. In some ways it is. Overwatch ‘taking care of everything’, however, is exactly what Hanzo is afraid of. Bad enough to have him and Genji to hold over their father, but now his heat as well?

And…

And any…

Anything that might result...because of it?

Hanzo shoves his circling doubts away from him before they manage to overwhelm his better sense. He has no guarantees here, but he cannot afford to give himself over to fear. He must keep himself centered and calm. He must survive. 

“You know...” she continues. “There are plenty of options for an omega on base.”

Hanzo’s eyes widen and he stares at her, alarmed. With the other thoughts that he is trying hard not to think about, her words seem ominous. _Options?_ Hanzo doesn’t know if he wants to meet any of her _options_. “I...”

She gives an abortive wave of her hands and shakes her head. “Not—I didn’t mean that how that sounded. I meant for...ordinary life. Rest assured, no one is going to be taking advantage—”

Hanzo is bodily dragged off the table, Genji hauling on his arm. “This examination is over,” Genji growls.

“Let go of me!” Hanzo snaps and shoves him away. Genji releases him, but makes sure to stand between Hanzo and Doctor Ziegler again.

Doctor Ziegler stands, holding her hands up in an attempt to soothe Genji. “Everything will meet regulation for ethical treatment, of course. Comfort would be our top priority.”

“For?” 

“Your brother?” Doctor Ziegler replies jut as Hanzo snarls, “None of your business!”

Genji whirls on Hanzo. “What does she mean?” he demands, switching back to Japanese again. “What were you talking about?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Hanzo hisses.

“If it involves you, then it _does_ concern me. I am your _brother_ —”

“You are not Father!” Hanzo shouts. “He is not here!”

“I know he’s not here!” Genji yells back. “I’m trying my best!”

“Your best?” Hanzo scoffs. “Your best at what?”

“To be the head alpha. To protect you!”

“I don’t need an alpha!” The _last thing_ that Hanzo wanted right now was an overbearing alpha telling him what to do, what to think, and how to act. In many ways, Hanzo is _glad_ that Father isn’t here with them. This would be so much worse if he was. He couldn’t even imagine how his father would be storming around and pressing Hanzo down under his thumb until Hanzo didn’t dare move an inch if he were here having to watch Hanzo about to go into heat surrounded by armed alphas.

Genji is panting with agitation, his hands fisted at his side, and Hanzo wonders if he feels the urge to grab Hanzo and force him into behaving like Father would have. It makes Hanzo angry thinking about it, Genji stepping right into their Father’s place, trying to force Hanzo into being the perfect omega all over again.

Then he sees the tears. They hover at the corner of Genji’s eyes, unshed but present, and Hanzo is reminded that, no, this isn’t their Father who is standing in front of him. This is his little brother, a scared kid trying so hard to do what he thinks that he must and resorting back to the only thing that he knows, trying to be something that he is not.. 

Hanzo’s anger fades away like it never existed at all. It is likely a mistake to let Overwatch know just how much he cares about his brother, but there is no hiding it at this point. If they do not know, then they are blind, because Hanzo cannot hide it. “I need my brother,” he says softly and a tear trails down the right side of Genji’s face. Genji wipes it away hurriedly, still attempting to appear strong, and Hanzo steps in close, his hand resting on Genji’s arm.

“I am scared too,” he confesses quietly. “This is not how we deal with this.” He needs Genji to understand. Together is how they get through this, not Genji alone with Hanzo helpless and needing protection. Together, they are strong. “I do not need you to protect me as an alpha.”

“But, Anija...” 

“We need to protect each other,” Hanzo continues, squeezing Genji’s arm. “My brother and me. We are Shimadas. Do you understand?”

Genji nods and bows his head to surreptitiously swipe at the other tears threatening to fall, piecing himself back together.

“Good.” Hanzo gives Genji’s arm a final squeeze and removes his hand. The stares of the others in the room prickle along his skin. He rolls his shoulders uncomfortably and turns back to face Doctor Ziegler who is looking remarkably calm despite everything. “Is there anything else, doctor?”

“No, I think that will be all for now. I will be in touch, however.” 

Hanzo nods and looks at the soldiers still aiming their guns at him. 

“Time to go back to our cell, then, huh?” Genji asks, still somewhat subdued but steadily coming back to himself.

“It’s not...” Doctor Ziegler starts but twin looks from Hanzo and Genji forestall her before she can finish what she wants to say. Overwatch can call it a “room” all they want, but neither Hanzo nor Genji are fooled.

It’s still a cell.

“This way,” one soldier says, indicating the hallway that they had come from with his gun.

* * *

Hanzo sits up on the bed when someone knocks at the door a few hours later. He’s wondering why Overwatch is keeping up the pretense that they have to ask permission to enter the room when everyone involved knows the truth. It isn’t as if Hanzo and Genji can refuse, just as they cannot leave as they please. Beside him, Genji folds his hands behind his head, exuding nonchalance and boredom. “Maybe they’ll bring us a TV,” Genji says. “I am _so bored_...”

“Would you like them to send a masseuse as well?” Hanzo asks. This is hardly a five star resort that they are staying in.

“Oh, yes, please.” Genji grins. “With big tits.” He holds his hands in front of his chest to demonstrate his preferred size and Hanzo rolls his eyes.

“How vulgar.”

“But honest.”

With no answer forthcoming, the door gives way to the lie that it is and opens anyway. A familiar scent trickles in and Hanzo is off the bed onto his feet within seconds. The bed has too many implications for him to remain on it with an alpha entering the room. Especially _this_ alpha.

“Howdy,” Jesse says. He tips his hat, then removes it completely and Hanzo curses the small kernel of heat that is burning inside of him. Overwatch or no, Jesse is still a good looking alpha and Hanzo can’t help but appreciate that. “I, uh, brought you dinner.”

Genji moves into a sitting position. “Time for our daily rations already?”

“ _Dinner_ ,” Jesse insists and two other soldiers enter the room carrying covered trays that they set down on the table. The soldiers remove the covers, revealing two identical meals that wouldn’t have been out of place back home.

“Keeping us in the manner to which we have been accustomed, I see,” Genji says with a smirk.

Jesse ignores the remark. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Freedom?” Genji asks.

Jesse acknowledges the point with a bob of his head. He had walked right into that particular one. “Well, besides that.”

“Your balls on a platter,” Hanzo says, feeling bold and bitter. Genji’s grin grows wider in delight as Jesse winces.

“Yeah, that,” Genji says, pointing at Hanzo. “We’ll take that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jesse plays with his hat, turning it in his hands.

Genji slithers off the bed and strolls to Jesse’s right. Jesse regards him suspiciously, rightfully not trusting Genji to be on his best behavior. A bored Genji is a truly dangerous creature. “Well, if there’s nothing else I can do for you...”

“Oh, I can think of something...” Genji says, sidling into Jesse’s space. He tilts his head suggestively and cocks a hip as he runs a finger up Jesse’s shoulder. Hanzo strangles a growl in his throat before it has a chance to escape at seeing his brother playing at flirting with Jesse. Jealousy flares inside of him, hotter and fiercer than it had been with the doctor and much harder to extinguish despite how he tries. It is irrational and unneeded. He _knows_ that Genji is only playing with Jesse, making the other alpha uncomfortable, and that he doesn’t mean anything by it. Yet, Hanzo’s mind refuses to believe that.

His hind brain just sees a romantic rival moving in on his territory. _Ridiculous_.

“I’m gonna just...” Jesse takes a step back as if to flee which gives Genji all the opening he needs to snag Jesse’s hat, stealing it right out of Jesse’s nervously moving fingers. Genji prances across the room holding his prize and grinning. “Hey! Now, you give that back!”

Genji drops the hat on his head and grins. “Hey, pardner,” he says in heavily accented English, trying his best at American cowboy and coming across somewhere between a stereotype and a drunk. “We’re gonna go rustle up some cattle, yee haw.”

“Very funny.” Jesse makes a grab for the hat but his slow speed leaves him empty handed as Genji smoothly dances to the other side of the room having effortless dodged. “Ninja...” Jesse mutters, as if reminding himself. He sighs and puts his hands on his hips as Genji twirls around like a demented clown. 

“You are too slow,” Hanzo comments and Jesse turns to look at him. Hanzo has to brace himself to once again have Jesse’s full attention as Jesse’s natural magnetism slams into him with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. Hanzo struggles to keep his breathing even.

He’s reminded that his heat is coming all too soon. Playing these kinds of games with Jesse is dangerous. Yet, oh, does Hanzo want to. Even knowing what he does, he still craves Jesse’s attention.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Jesse jerks a thumb towards where Genji is now pretending to ride a bucking bronco, waving the hat on each upward jump of his imaginary horse. “Don’t supposin’ you’d be obliged to help me out here or nothing?”

“You’re a trained agent,” Hanzo replies, crossing his arms. It grounds him and projects distance at the same time. “You can’t even handle one prisoner?” 

“Howdy!” Genji shouts gleefully and mimes tossing a lasso.

Ignoring the show, Jesse frowns. “You ain’t a prisoner. I thought we had that talk.”

“No, of course,” Hanzo scoffs. “I’m just a ‘guest’ who cannot leave. Changing the wording doesn’t change the reality.” Jesse and Reyes and the rest of Overwatch can use all the pretty words and euphemisms that they want. Their actions speak far louder.

“Look, H-hanzo...” Jesse’s hands wave in front of him, trying for a moment to express what his words cannot. Hanzo’s name is unfamiliar on Jesse’s tongue but that doesn’t stop Hanzo’s heart from skipping a beat just to hear it. “I didn’t mean to mislead you or anything, you know.”

The entire room is starting to reek of Jesse’s scent and Hanzo hates that his body doesn’t mind that in the slightest. There’s warmth growing inside of him, quite akin to the symptoms of pre-heat, and Hanzo shudders, suddenly unable to focus.

_Shit._

“It’s not like we had much time to get to know each other when you came walking up out of the dark. Didn’t have time for much of anything, really.” Jesse sounds regretful about that.

Hanzo wonders how much is an act. He takes a deep breath and chokes on it when his lungs fill with alpha pheromone. Heat flares inside of him and he wraps his arms around himself as if to contain it. This isn’t good. Just being this close to Jesse is affecting him too much. He feels on the verge of going into heat early.

“You invaded my home,” Hanzo rasps, desperately casting about inside of himself for some steel when all he wants to do is melt. “You kidnapped me and my brother. I think we have known each other quite enough. That night—” _That night._

“Wait a minute!” Genji interrupts, shocked out of his accented English back into Japanese. Tossing the hat aside, Genji vaults over the bed and skids to a stop beside Hanzo. “This? THIS is the alpha that you slept with? Him?” He jams a finger at Jesse’s face.

Oh, Hanzo thinks vaguely. Well, that secret’s out then. In a way, it is sort of a relief despite the shameful embarrassment of it all.

“Hanzo!” Hanzo nods, unable to meet Genji’s eyes, admitting to the humiliating truth.

There’s a few seconds of utter silence before the storm hits, an eerie stillness that paralyzes them all. Then the screaming starts. “How dare you touch him!” Genji yells and hurls himself at Jesse, grabbing him by the throat and pinning him to the wall. “You filthy, disgusting animal—”

What makes Hanzo do it, Hanzo isn’t quite sure, just reacting before he can fully process why, moving across the room. He peels Genji’s hand away from Jesse and gives his brother a shove to gain enough leverage to slide in between. Whether he is protecting Jesse from Genji or Genji from the consequences of his actions, he doesn’t know, but it’s probably somewhere in between.

“Hanzo!” Genji stares at him, betrayed, as Hanzo holds up a hand to fend him off if he approaches again. Behind Hanzo, Jesse is a solid, warm presence, and Hanzo can feel Jesse’s eyes on him, feel the weight of Jesse’s thoughts behind them.

“Don’t...” Hanzo warns.

“You’re defending this man?” Genji demands, throwing his arms wide. “Anija, he’s _Overwatch_!”

“I know!” Hanzo shouts back.

Behind him, Jesse slinks to the door, using more stealth than Hanzo would have thought possible for him. “Sorry for the intrusion,” he mutters as he retrieves his hat and bravely retreats from the room.

Genji punches the wall with a growl before turning back to Hanzo. “ _That?_ That was who you chose? Of all the alphas in Hanamura, you chose _him_?”

Hanzo is so very tired. He is tired of making excuses, tired of paying for mistakes—his and otherwise, tired of alphas demanding answers from him that they have no right to. “ _Yes,_ ” Hanzo snaps. The strength of his voice is enough to forstall Genji’s and Hanzo continues, unable to stop the words now that they had started. “ _Yes,_ I chose him. Because I thought I was going to spend a _lifetime_ being crushed under the thumb of Tenaka Goro—a crude, spiteful, ugly little man—after having spent a lifetime being crushed under the thumb of Father so I chose the furthest thing from _both of them_ and _I would do it again._ ” 

Divested of his righteous anger, Genji’s shoulders cave in on themselves. “Oh, Hanzo...” He takes a cautious step towards Hanzo, moving into his space and Hanzo lets him, dropping his hand to allow Genji in. “Sorry.” Hanzo shakes his head.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” It isn’t Genji who brought him to that point—and even now, Hanzo still doesn’t regret it. He can’t bring himself to regret that night with Jesse, no matter how it turned out. 

Genji tentatively touches Hanzo’s shoulder, testing his welcome before daring more. “Earlier...with Doctor Ziegler.” He pauses. “You were talking about needing preparations? It... _it_ is coming soon?”

Hanzo nods, not wanting to acknowledge the truth of that by saying it outloud. If he says it, it will be real. It is coming regardless if he acknowledges it or not, but maybe he can still have a few hours peace before—a day if he is lucky.

Knowing Hanzo’s luck, he will be deep in its throes within the hour.

“I will protect you,” Genji vows. “Anija. I will protect you.”

Hanzo lays a hand over Genji’s. “We will protect each other,” he says and hopes that he will be able to keep that promise. In their current situation, however, there are no guarantees, no assurances, just dependence on the good will of their captors.

And if Hanzo has learned anything about being in captivity, it is that it is never easy to be at the whim of another.

* * *

It is only a short while later, just after dinner, that soldiers come once again. Unlike the previous times, however, there is no knock, just a sudden barging in of armed men. Hanzo can appreciate their honesty instead of bothering to keeping up the false pretense. He is glad that they are finally showing their true natures. 

“What, no polite knock this time?” Genji remarks sarcastically, strolling up.

The leader of the group gives Genji a once over, then dismisses him, looking over at Hanzo. “That one,” he says, pointing. The other soldiers lunge forward and seize Hanzo by his arms, big paws latching onto him and holding him in place. 

“Release me!” Hanzo shouts, digging in his heels. Working together, they drag him forward, holding him up when he refuses to move his feet at all. His cooperation is unneeded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Genji demands. He tries to pull one of the men off of Hanzo, but a sucker punch to the gut knocks him backward. Genji gasps, “What the hell?” He straightens to try again, but the leader steps in front of him and holds up his rifle as a blatant threat.

“Stay where you are,” the man says, smirking, “or we’ll do a whole lot more than that.” Hanzo’s heart jumps into his throat and he gives up resisting, letting himself be dragged out the door. He can’t let them hurt Genji—can’t let Genji hurt himself in an ill-advised attempt to save Hanzo.

“Where are you taking him?” They slam the door in Genji’s face, the lock clicking into place once again. Genji bangs against it, still shouting though his words are unintelligible now, muffled as they are behind the thick steel. Hanzo stares at the door and feels a sense of hopelessness that he attempts to shove back down inside him. He wonders if this will be the last time that he sees his brother. He keeps his face carefully controlled, not allowing it to betray his thoughts. He doesn’t want to give these Overwatch goons the satisfaction. 

His hands are yanked forward, thick cuffs clipping into place around his wrists, and Hanzo stops the tremble that is trying to start in his arms. Restrained, in the midst of armed guards, deep in an unknown Overwatch base, and Hanzo’s chances of a successful escape are close to zero. He is at the mercy of these men.

The smirking leader turns towards Hanzo. He reeks of alpha—nothing like Jesse’s attractive scent or Doctor Ziegler’s delicateness, but an overpowering strength that pervades Hanzo’s entire body and unsettles his stomach with its unnatural intensity. It is not unlike Tenaka Goro’s chemical enhancers and Hanzo wonders if if the two alphas share the same product. “Now, then, princess...” He runs a finger down Hanzo’s cheek and Hanzo can’t stop how his face twists in distaste. He jerks away from the man’s touch. “The doc wants to see you.”

Hanzo’s brow furls in confusion. He and Genji had just seen Doctor Ziegler not a few hours before—and, regardless of her being Overwatch or not, he cannot conceive of her ordering such an abrupt extraction, not with how she had objected to the mere presence of guns.

The alpha leans in to breath in deeply over Hanzo’s neck and groans. “Oh, hell...” He drops his forehead against Hanzo’s shoulder, holding onto Hanzo when Hanzo tries to shift away.

“He smell good, Geary?” one of the soldiers holding Hanzo asks. The soldier leans in for a sniff as well, but, with his beta senses partially immune to the effect, he only shrugs in response. “It’s nice, but...”

“He smells...” Geary says slowly, as if he is emerging from a trance. “Like everything you’ve ever wanted in life.” Hanzo’s heart thumps painfully in his chest, a physiological response to the beginning tendrils of fear uncurling inside of him. Somehow, he doesn’t think any pretty words about ethics printed in an official manual somewhere is of much concern to the alpha in front of him. Geary’s eyes open again and he stares at Hanzo. “You’re close, aren’t you?” He sways closer to Hanzo, pressing up against his body. “They always make the unsuppressed omegas take time off when they are this close. But a high class omega like you, living in your little palace, you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Just used to be able to smell however you want and make all the alphas go stir crazy because they can’t touch you...”

“Sir...” a soldier says, the warning clear in his voice.

Geary ignores him. “We could have some fun, you and I...”

“Sir, Doctor O’Deorain requested that we bring him right away.”

Gerary shakes himself and moves away. He whirls on the soldier that had dared to speak. “I know that,” he snaps. “So how about you start marching? Wouldn’t want the doc to be disappointed, now would we? You know what happens to those she considers to be disposable.”

The soldier salutes. “Yes, sir.”

When they pull him down the hallway, Hanzo walks with them. He knows that they would drag him if they had to and he doesn’t want to invite any more attention than the edge of his heat already has. He doesn’t know how far the alpha would take things in the middle of the base, but he doesn’t want to test it. He’s sure that there are lots of little rooms around that Hanzo could be stashed away in and forgotten about if these men were so inclined.

Hanzo focuses on his breathing, keeping it slow and even by willpower alone.

They take him down another labyrinth of corridors, following a path in the opposite direction of Doctor Ziegler’s, to yet another lab. This one exists in start contrast to Doctor Ziegler’s however. In hers, everything had been brightly lit, with the machines all a clean white, accented with shining chrome where necessary. The machines in this one still contain highlights of chrome, but that is where the comparison ends. They are mostly built from blacks and grays, blending in with the room’s dim lighting. The edges of the room exist only in shadow, vague shapes suggesting more machinery. A metal examination table stands in the center of the room, solid and bolted to the floor with various restraints hanging off of it, and lining the far wall is a barely visible series of small cages—all empty except for one. A rabbit sits, unmoving, in the corner, staring at nothing at all.

Hanzo swallows down his fear and forces his back straight. He will not give in to panic. He refuses.

Geary pushes one of the other soldiers out of the way to take hold of Hanzo himself, his grip tight on Hanzo’s arm. Hanzo bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself still despite how his skin is starting to crawl, though he can’t stop the reflective gag caused by Geary’s overpowering scent. “I’ll take it from here,” Geary tells the others. “You’re dismissed.”

“Sir...” Hanzo’s eyes cut over to the one soldier that seems willing to be the voice of morality. Hanzo is not hoping for a rescue here, but perhaps a momentary reprieve—a distraction until something else can happen, maybe.

“I said ‘Dismissed’,” Geary growls and the soldier's sense of morality proves to be only as strong as his next order because he snaps a salute and exits like all the others. Hanzo’s stomach drops. He is painfully aware of just how vulnerable he is—restrained and alone in a room with an alpha while on the cusp of his heat. He clenches his hands into fists to keep himself strong and to prepare to defend himself as best as he is able if need be. He willingly walked here but if the alpha thinks that Hanzo is going to willingly submit, Hanzo will disabuse him of that notion quickly enough.

Geary grins at him. “We’ve got just a little while before the doc gets here, princess. You got any ideas?” He scents Hanzo again, his hot breath blowing over Hanzo’s skin as he moves in close. Presumptuous fingers alight on Hanzo’s hips, touching but not quite holding. Hanzo tenses. “Because I sure do...” 

Wetness trails across Hanzo’s throat as a hand slides up his thigh and Hanzo gasps as equal parts shock and revulsion jolt through him. He spins, breaking off contact with the alpha, and puts some distance between them.

“Now, don’t be like that, princess.” Geary crosses to Hanzo and slams him against the wall. Hanzo’s breath leaves his body, not having been prepared for the sudden use of violence. “I told you we only have a little bit of time here.” Geary’s hand gently trails down Hanzo’s face to cup his jaw in a parody of a caress. 

Hanzo jerks his head away. “Remove your hands from me.”

“Or what? You’ll call your guards?” Geary laughs. “It’s just you and me, princess. There’s no one to save you. Your alpha brother’s having a good fit back in your cell. Your Father’s back at home.” Hanzo shivers, unable to stop himself, and curses his weakness. “Fuck, you smell good. I haven’t ever been with an omega of your caliber before. I don’t know all the niceties, so you’re just going to have to forgive me. I’ll be gentle.”

The alpha’s lips descend upon Hanzo’s, a hard presence pushing Hanzo downward. Thick fingers press against Hanzo’s cheeks, digging into the skin and grinding against his teeth, forcing Hanzo to open his mouth to try to relieve the pressure. A slimy eel takes advantage to invade Hanzo’s mouth, slipping across Hanzo’s teeth and his tongue. Hanzo fights the hold, trying to escape and bite down, but he’s stuck. 

He lashes out with his bound fists instead, slamming them into Geary’s solar plexus and forcing the alpha backwards. Gasping, Geary bends over, and Hanzo follows up by smashing both hands into the side of Geary’s face, knocking him to the floor.

Hanzo dashes over to the door but finds it locked, the keypad looking up at him mockingly. Trapped, he runs to the other side of the room, putting the examination table between himself and Geary to buy himself a little bit of time if nothing else.

A silver tray sits on a counter behind him, and Hanzo scoops up a scalpel, breathing thanks to whoever was careless enough to leave it out for him. He hides it in his sleeves and readies himself for the alpha’s next attack.

“You fucking bitch...” Geary growls from the floor. He pushes himself up, swaying on his feet. “Is that how you want it? I was _trying_ to be nice, but if you would rather I just be a mean bastard, then that can be arranged, too.”

“Keep your hands off of me,” Hanzo says.

“I already told you, _princess_...” Geary moves to loom over the table, his grin turning predatory. “There’s no one here but you and me.” He slides around the corner and Hanzo mirrors him, maintaining the distance between them. “You know,” Geary says conversationally, “it’s okay if you want to fight a little. I like it. It’ll make it so much sweeter when I win and you end up underneath me.” He lunges in the opposite direction, hoping to catch Hanzo off guard, but Hanzo effortlessly switches directions. The alpha is large, with the reach advantage on Hanzo, but he is slow.

“I’m going to catch you eventually, princess. And I’m going to make you regret every minute you keep me waiting.”

“You make me sick,” Hanzo replies.

“Oh, do I? You won’t be saying that when you are on my cock.” Geary surges to the right and Hanzo counters. They end in reversed positions, with Hanzo closer to the locked door and the alpha glaring at him from across the room. Hanzo grips the scalpel in his hand, prepared to utilize it if Geary gets within range.

He jumps when his weapon is taken from him, a female voice behind him inquiring, “And just what did you have planned for this?” Hanzo whirls to face the newcomer. Tall, stick-thin, with a blaze of red hair, the woman looks back at him blandly. 

Like Reyes, she’s also eerily scentless, as if she were missing half of herself.

“You had no idea what he was about to do to you, did you?” she asks of Geary. She tosses the scalpel onto a far counter. “You were about to be gutted like a fish. Idiot.” She prowls out from behind Hanzo. “Too busy thinking with things other than your head, I suspect, Lieutenant.”

Geary defers to her with a “Yes, Doctor,” and relaxes his stance. Fear grips Hanzo’s throat and holds it tight at the fact that this woman is able to control such an alpha with just a few words.

“Well?” she demands. She waves her hand towards a chair that is by the examination table, and no less terrifying. It, too, has restraints.

“Sorry, doc.” Geary moves to catch Hanzo—more business-like than his previous predatory advances—but Hanzo avoids being caught once again. “Get over here,” Geary growls. He lunges for Hanzo and misses, stumbling into the wall.

The woman rolls her eyes. “You are ridiculous. If you would, please, Mr. Shimada?” She gestures towards the chair again and Hanzo’s eyebrows raise. She must be crazy if she thinks that Hanzo is getting anywhere near that chair and its various shackles and cuffs. “Oh, for...” She spins and points impatiently to another possible seat, this one a simple office chair in front of a computer. “Is that more amendable to you? I have some questions for you, Mr. Shimada. If we could please have a conversation like civilized people?” Hanzo’s eyes cut over to Geary, looming like an angry bear just out of reach and the woman snaps her fingers at the alpha. “Lieutenant, your services are no longer required.”

“Are you sure, doc?”

“I am quite sure. Now, leave.” She waves her hand towards the exit and after a moment’s hesitation, Geary salutes and takes off.

“Now, where were we?” The woman perches upon a stool with a clipboard. “You are Hanzo Shimada, correct?”

Hanzo remains silent, wondering how much he should tell this woman and how much she already knows.

The doctor nods. “Of course. Where are my manners? I am Doctor Moira O’Deorain, a researcher. You are Hanzo Shimada of the infamous Shimada clan. Now, that introductions are done, shall we continue?” She gestures towards the empty office chair again. Hanzo does not move. “I am not an alpha and I assure you, Mr. Shimada, I have no deigns on your virtue. Have a seat.”

Alpha or not, the fact that she is so insistent on having him sit, makes Hanzo want to do anything but. “I would prefer to stand,” he says.

She raises her eyebrows. “Whatever you would like. How old are you?” She pauses for an answer that Hanzo will not give her, then looks up again. “Height? Weight?” Hanzo keeps silent and the woman sighs and skips down on her form. “We can get those answers later, I suppose. Based on Lieutenant Geary’s behavior, would it safe to assume that your next heat is close? The Lieutenant isn’t so usually distracted from his assigned duties.” Hanzo looks away, unable to meet the doctor’s eyes with such an invasive question hanging between them, especially when he knows that she has already correctly guessed the answer. “I’ll take that as a yes. Have you ever born a child? Had sexual intercourse of any kind?”

Hanzo’s face stains red despite his efforts to maintain his calm, as various memories start to surface.

“It is important that we have accurate data.”

“‘Data’ is an odd word to use,” Hanzo replies. It implies something that he is starting to suspect about the doctor and the way that she regards him—as something less than human.

“It is accurate and will suffice.”

“I also fail to see how any of this is your business.”

“Of course it is my business. This is important work.” Doctor O’Deorain tosses her clipboard to the side and folds her hands. “Let’s dispense with the pleasantries and cut to the chase. What do you know about the dragons of the Shimada clan?”

Startled, Hanzo’s eyes widen. How does this woman know about the dragons? He glances at her, trying to gauge how much she knows. She is perched on the edge of her stool, tilted forward in interest.

“You are aware of your family’s dragons, are you not?”

Hanzo’s mouth twists into a moue of distaste. “Dragons are a symbol of the Shimada clan,” he answers, deliberately not giving her the answer that he knows that she wants.

She dismisses his answer with a wave. “ _The_ dragons,” she stresses. “The dragons that your clan is infamous for being able to control. The ones that cause untold destruction in their wake.”

“Stories,” Hanzo replies. “Legends.”

“Many legends have a basis in truth. I know that you likely have some adorably folksy way of thinking about these creatures, but there is science in all things.”

“Only a fool believes everything.”

Doctor O’Deorain stands, her chin tilting up arrogantly. “I am not a fool. I know that the dragons are real and I _will_ get my answers. I expanding the sum of human knowledge. Can you not see the importance of my work?”

“I have nothing for you.”

“Either I will get my answers from you or your brother, Mr. Shimada.” Hanzo’s blood runs cold at the mention of Genji. Somehow, he knows that he doesn’t want to test this woman, that the depths to which she would sink to are beyond imagining. But the dragons are not something that he can explain to an outsider. He doubts that she would even understand, too insistent on trying to break the phenomenon down into tiny bites of science, unable to comprehend something that exists outside of mankind’s so called ‘laws.’ “Make no mistake, nothing stands between me and my research.”

“There are no answers on this for you, Doctor.”

“I don’t believe you.” Hanzo shakes his head, thinking about replying how it doesn’t matter if she believes him or not, when the doctor lunges for him, quick as a viper. She strikes, easily taking him back to the wall despite her slim stature. “You have them, don’t you? The dragons,” she hisses, staring down at him. Up close, there is no denying how much taller she is than him. Hanzo has to crane his neck to look at her as she looms over him.

“Show them to me,” she demands and tugs at his robes, baring his chest.

Hanzo inhales sharply and struggles with her, trying to remove her hands, but she works with quick precision, baring his shoulders before he can truly mount a defense. She gasps, her hands flattening against the blue lines, arrogantly touching Hanzo wherever she pleases as if it is her right to do so. Hanzo shouts and shoves her away. He drops into a defensive stance, readying for her next attack, but she merely claps her hands together delightedly. “Exquisite,” she purrs. “How wonderous. How far down do they extend?” Hanzo yanks his clothes back over his shoulders, hiding the dragons from her sight again, feeling the absurd urge to protect the destructive spirit creatures. “Do they stay there always? Or do they just appear when you are excited? You and Lieutenant Geary had quite an incident before I arrived, did he awaken them?” She reaches out with questing hands again and Hanzo sidles away.

“Stay away from me,” he snarls.

She smiles at him like a snake, baring her teeth in something that is more of a threat than anything approaching friendly. “Are you aware of them on a day to day basis? Or do you only notice once the energy has built inside of you? Can you ‘summon’ them now or do you need to make preparations?”

Hanzo is finding it hard to breath, unable to get his lungs to function when faced with the knowledge that this woman knows so much that she should not. How much of his family’s secrets have already been betrayed?

“How do you build the energy that the dragons require? How do you release it once it is built? Does it ever dissipate without discharging?”

So many questions. They spin around Hanzo’s head like demented birds, pecking at his better sense. “Why has Overwatch taken us captive?” he asks, fighting the questions with one of his own.

She ignores him, continuing along the same line. “How are the dragons transmitted? Through your Father’s line? Obviously. The Shimadas are famous for hosting the dragons. Your mother—was she of the Shimada line? A distant relative, perhaps?”

“Where are we being held?” His mother had been a distant cousin, he remembers that.

“Yet not all of your family has the dragons, do they? How are they cultivated? It is a genetic mutation?”

“Who is in charge of this installation?”

“If you were to have children, would the dragons be transmitted from you to them?”

“Where is my father?”

“Ah, of course, yes, your father. I have heard it rumored that Sojiro Shimada possesses the dragons as well. Or at least he did. Can multiple generations have them at once? Or do they pass on after a certain age?”

“Enough!” Hanzo shouts. “Enough of your questions! I will answer none!”

Doctor O’Deorain tsks. “Unfortunate. But it not as if I truly need your cooperation.” She lunges and though Hanzo attempts to dodge, she is faster than him, her body somehow _blurring_ from his sight before she unexpectedly emerges on the other side of him and injects a needle into his neck. Hanzo slaps her away, but whatever she has put into his veins is fast acting. He stumbles forward, catching himself on a counter, before dropping to his knees.

“Careful,” Doctor O’Deorain says. “I wouldn’t want to injure the host of such magnificent specimens. They might be damaged.”

 _Host_? Hanzo thinks blurrily and collapses to the floor. He tries to tell her that he is not a host or a specimen or some _experiment_ for her to play with, but the words come out slow and slurred, as if his tongue is rebelling.

The rabbit in the cage is looking at him now, telling him that he is a fool for ever letting the woman get close.

“I assure you, I am not unreasonable,” she says from somewhere above him. Around him. Hanzo is floating in a haze filled with the sound of her voice. “I make sure that all of my test subjects are well taken care of...”

Hanzo descends into nothingness.


	6. Happiness

The light blurs above Hanzo. He squints at it, trying to make sense of it. His head feels as if it stuffed with fuzz, yet his body is leaden, each limb too heavy to move. He cannot even turn his head to stop himself from staring up at the bright light above him.

There is a buzzing sound of machinery echoing around him, pressing up against the inside of his mind.

“Hey there, princess,” a male voice whispers and Hanzo blinks hazily as alpha pheromones lay thickly over him like a blanket. Geary leans into sight over him, blotting out the light. He grins at Hanzo.

Something is traveling up his thigh, under his clothes. Hanzo wants to dislodge it, but his legs refuse to move. He can’t even squirm away. “The doc isn’t allowing us much time together,” Geary says conversationally. “She doesn’t seem to trust me with you. Imagine that. Fucking beta bitch.” 

Hanzo’s underwear is yanked roughly to the side, the creature climbing his leg pushing underneath. Hanzo grimaces, moaning weakly in protest. “Here’s a little something to think about, though.” An unyielding hardness shoves painfully inside of him, robbing him of the ability to breathe. He struggles to convince his lungs to once again draw air. 

Geary smirks down at him. “Like that, princess? I can give you much more than that.” He looks up at something outside of Hanzo’s line of sight and frowns. “Shit. I think she’s coming back.” The intrusion leaves Hanzo, sliding out of out him and fixing his clothes along the way.

Two fingers are presented to Hanzo, tapping lightly on his lips and leaving a smear of wetness and omega scent. Hanzo lolls his head to the side with great difficulty. Above him, Geary moans as he sucks on the fingers. “Mmmm… Fuck, that’s good. Just a little taste for you. Can’t wait to take my time with you later.”

Hanzo frowns. Take...his time?

What does that mean? Hanzo doesn’t know.

A series of beeps sounds somewhere to Hanzo’s right and he tries to turn to face it and verify its existence but his head refuses to cooperate once more.

The blanket of alpha pheromone is gone, signaling that Hanzo is once again alone—or so he thinks until the redheaded doctor walks by, muttering to herself.

“Inconclusive...” She flips over a paper in her hand. “These are unsatisfactory results.” A rush of papers and she is peering at Hanzo, tapping on his cheek. “How do the dragons work?” she demands. “How do they work?”

Hanzo closes his eyes and consigns himself to oblivion again.

* * *

“—did to him! Your words mean _nothing_. Your guards can come in at any moment and _take_ as they please. Your promises are empty!”

Genji’s voice, raised in anger, swirls around Hanzo and brings him to the surface of consciousness. He opens his eyes and blinks at the bright lights overhead. Something about them reminds him of something—something that he feels that he should remember, but can’t. He stops trying and dismisses the feeling, groaning at the throb of his head when he attempts to sit up. The scent of alpha hovers in the air—multiple scents blending together. One is Genji’s, but the others are not.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Doctor Ziegler’s pleasant voice says beside him. Hanzo jackknifes upward and pushes away, looking to put space between him and the alpha in his vulnerable state. Her scent, as delicate as it is, sets up a cacophony of emotions inside of him, both enticing him and repulsing him at the same time. “Careful!” Doctor Ziegler reaches out as if she wants to catch him, then thinks better of it and pulls her hands back to hover over her shoulders. “You’re still recovering.”

“My brother...” Hanzo rasps. Where is Genji? He can still hear him shouting, somewhere nearby, but he cannot see him.

Doctor Ziegler points to Hanzo’s left, past an array of machines. “He is over there with Commander Reyes.” Just over the edge of one of the machines, Hanzo can see a familiar shade of green bobbing in agitation. Hanzo nods and slides to his feet, catching himself on the bed when his knees refuse to hold him up.

“I don’t know how wise it is for you to leave the bed right now,” Doctor Ziegler says and Hanzo fixes her with a look.

“I doubt the wisdom in me staying in the bed right now,” he tells her bluntly and straightens. She takes a few steps back to give him some much needed space, her hands still in full view.

“What I want to know,” Jesse growls from behind the same bank of machinery as Genji, “is how the hell they got past the guard that was supposed to be on the door.” Hanzo sighs. Of course Jesse is here. Because the moment wasn’t shit enough.

“They are Overwatch,” Genji snaps. “Of course they were let inside. Why not when Overwatch are our jailers?”

“There were orders—”

“ _Easily ignored_. When you can come in and just take my brother whenever you wish, how is that protection? The _mighty Overwatch_. What a—”

“How are you feeling?” a new voice asks and it takes Hanzo a bit to realize that it was addressed to him. He glances up to see Commander Reyes looking directly at him.

“Hanzo!” Genji rushes to Hanzo’s side. “Why are you up? You should be in bed.”

“There was an alpha beside my bed,” Hanzo rasps and Genji’s eyes grow wide in alarm even as Jesse winces behind him.

“An alpha?” Genji peeks around the machines. Doctor Ziegler waves at them. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” Jesse mutters, rubbing the back of his head. “Should have thought about that a bit more.”

“How are you feeling?” Commander Reyes repeats. “Do you need Mercy to get you anything?”

“I am...alright,” Hanzo says, though it is a lie and he knows that everyone in the room knows it too. His head is splitting and the world is spinning faintly. He is very much not alright.

“Bullshit,” Genji swears. “You should have seen how they brought you back in the room—”

Commander Reyes makes a sharp motion with his hand, cutting Genji off. “Where did they take you?”

“A doctor,” Hanzo replies. He is unsure how he feels about Commander Reyes. Without a scent, the man is otherworldly, existing and yet not. He doesn’t have the pheromones of an alpha but the fact that Jesse obviously defers to him suggests that he is and it is as if he is hiding that part of himself. Hanzo doesn’t trust him a bit.

“ _Which_ doctor? Did they say?”

The full name escapes Hanzo. He only remembers, “A Doctor O’something.”

“God fucking damn it,” Jesse swears. “This time she’s gone too far, Reyes!” His alpha scent thickens to the point where Hanzo can almost _feel_ it against his skin. The rational side of him advises him to run but the rest of him would like to stay forever. The intensity matches that of Geary from before, of Goro, yet instead of repulsing Hanzo, it attracts him, inviting him in to breathe deep. Hanzo shakes his head and groans at the sudden burst of pain.

“Sit down!” Commander Reyes snaps at Jesse. “You get those instincts under control, kid, or you aren’t going to be welcome here.”

“She’s out of control and you know it.”

“She’s just doing as she’s always done—”

“And that’s the problem!”

Reyes smacks a hand to his face. “Christ,” he growls. “I’ll deal with it. _I’ll_ deal with it. Rein it in, _alpha_.”

Jesse snarls and spins around and stalks to the far side of the room.

“What did she do to you?” Genji asks quietly.

“She wanted to know about...” Hanzo trails off.

“About?” Genji prompts and Hanzo thumps his chest where the dragons rest on his skin. “How did she know?”

“I don’t know.”

“We all know,” Reyes says and both Genji and Hanzo stare at him. “The dragons? They’re not a great secret. Your dad used them a lot when he probably shouldn’t have. Cat was out of the bag a long time ago. Or should I say the dragon.”

Hanzo glowers. “She wanted to know how they worked and drugged me when I wouldn’t give her the answers that she sought.”

“Hanzo, I—”

Hanzo cuts Genji off before he can apologize for something that is not his fault again. “There was nothing that you could have done.”

“I could have—”

“How about you and I have a talk, Hanzo,” Reyes says. He holds out his hand to invite Hanzo to come with him and Hanzo stares at it like the snake bite that it is.

“He isn’t going _anywhere_ ,” Genji growls.

“It’s a bit of a private conversation,” Reyes replies. He sighs and drops his hand. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Your heat’s coming up.”

Hanzo flushes at the blunt statement and Genji matches him.

“Sorry,” Reyes apologizes, sounding anything but sincere, “but we need to talk options before that gets here. And judging by the smell of you, something else happened and I’d like to know what.”

Hanzo’s blood flashes to ice. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you reek of alpha. Now, I could go around and smell every alpha on the base, but I’d appreciate not having to do that.”

“Nothing happened,” Hanzo whispers.

Genji betrays him. “Anija. What happened?”

“Nothing,” Hanzo repeats, forcing his voice to be stronger.

“You were assaulted by one of mine and I’d like a name or at least a description.”

Hanzo shakes his head. No. It was his fault anyway. His heat is too close. Any alpha would surely have acted the same in that situation. As the thought occurs to Hanzo, he glances up at where Jesse is still storming about on the far side of the room. Almost every alpha, he amends. Another thought floats through his mind and Hanzo turns to look back at Doctor Ziegler who is checking the data on one of her machines.

Some, Hanzo amends again. Some alphas.

Even if that goes against everything that he has ever been taught about alphas.

He looks at Commander Reyes who is still standing in front of him with obvious irritation, but no apparent urges to ravish Hanzo immediately and wonders if he knows anything that he thought he did.

“Shouldn’t this talk be handled by—by—by an omega?” Genji stutters.

Reyes blinks at him slowly. “It is.”

Genji actually turns and looks behind him as if there might be another person in the room besides the ones he was already aware of, but Hanzo stares straight at Commander Reyes. _What?_ “Bullshit,” Genji says. He sniffs the air and wrinkles his nose. “You don’t smell like an omega.”

“That would be the point.” Reyes’s voice implies that Genji is being stupid.

“You don’t smell like anything,” Hanzo adds. This… This makes a strange kind of sense? An omega commander hiding his designation by eradicating his scent.

...Can Hanzo do the same?

“Experimental suppressants,” Reyes replies. “But I am an omega.” He pulls on the collar of his shirt, briefly displaying a bonding mark. “Bonded too.”

“But...how? You don’t...an omega?” Genji attempts to pick his jaw off the ground and so obviously fails. “How can this be true?”

“Angela?” Reyes asks, turning to Doctor Ziegler who is walking by them.

“Omega,” she confirms and keeps moving as if it doesn’t matter to her in the slightest.

“And...those suppressants,” Hanzo starts, wondering at how he might ask what he truly wants to.

“Not a viable solution,” Doctor Ziegler says from the shelf that she is now regarding. “They were bad news when Gabriel starting taking them and in my opinion they haven’t gotten better.”

Reyes shrugs. “They work.”

“Of course they work,” Doctor Ziegler replies. “As all of her treatments do—but at what cost?”

“Well, that is the question, isn’t it.”

Doctor Ziegler picks a device up and comes back towards them. “I cannot recommend the experimental treatment due to a wide array of adverse side effects, but there are other treatments that you can try. _Safer_ alternatives. They aren’t as strong, but they will do what they need to.” She stops in front of Hanzo, still giving him a wide berth that he appreciates. “They won’t help this time, however.”

“Why not?” Hanzo demands.

Doctor Ziegler shakes her head. “Your heat is too close. They won’t have time to work. The suppressants need at least a week to dampen your body’s natural cycle. You are already entering that cycle.” Hanzo feels the tentative hope that had been building inside of him splinter. So much for that idea. “Other arrangements can be made,” Doctor Ziegler says gently. “A heat room. If you would like, a suitable partner. Contraceptives.”

 _A suitable partner._ An image of Jesse from that night flashes through Hanzo’s mind and Hanzo shoves it away roughly. “And are you offering your services?” he asks, rude in his irritation.

Doctor Ziegler’s mouth drops open. “That—that—that wouldn’t be a good choice. I am not a professional heat partner. I assure you much better options are available.”

Hanzo finds his eyes wandering over to Jesse without him consciously thinking about doing so and grits his teeth. Hanzo will not be spending his heat with Jesse and damn what his body wants.

...It will be a miserable experience, but it is his choice to make.

Jesse, however, _damn him_ , decides at that moment to tune back into their conversation. “You’re going on suppressants?” he asks, sounding disappointed.

“That’s none of your business,” Genji snaps.

Jesse nods. “No, it’s not,” he agrees and heads for the door, shocking both Genji and Hanzo. A kernel of guilt unfurls inside of Hanzo and Hanzo ruthlessly crushes it before it has a chance to grow. Jesse is the enemy. It is not necessary for Hanzo to garner his approval, nor should Hanzo want to.

Damn it.

Before Jesse can reach the door, however, it opens, admitting one tall, stick-thin, redheaded doctor. Panic grips Hanzo’s heart and he shoves Genji back behind the bank of machines.

“Anija, what the hell?” Genji protests.

“And just what the hell do you think you are doing here?” Jesse loudly demands. “You got a lot of nerve showing your face after what you’ve done.”

“Ah, the cowboy,” Doctor O’Deorain says dismissively. She tries to slide around him, but Jesse stands in her way no matter which way she slithers. “Move.”

“Why don’t you—”

“McCree!” Reyes’s voice rings out as he strides towards the altercation happening at the door. “Weren’t you heading out?”

“Nope,” Jesse replies, planting his feet with his hands on his hips. “I was going to stay right the fuck here.”

“Gabriel. We must talk. All of the tests came back inconclusive—”

“Yeah,” Reyes says with a nod. “I think we need to talk.”

Doctor O’Deorain glares at Jesse still standing in her way. “This would be easier without a wall of cowboy between us.”

“I ain’t movin’.”

“Ignore him,” Reyes says. “Did you take one of the Shimadas?”

“I returned him unharmed,” Doctor O’Deorain replies.

Genji surges against Hanzo. _Her?_ he mouths. _That one?_

Hanzo puts a finger over Genji’s mouth, admonishing him to keep his silence. They will deal with Doctor O’Deorain in their own time, just as they will the rest of Overwatch, but this moment isn’t that time. It serves their best interest if the doctor is unaware that Genji and Hanzo are in the room. She might reveal some information that she wouldn’t otherwise.

“Damn it, Moira—”

“More to the point, Gabriel, I think some measures need to be taken.”

Reyes is caught up short. “‘Measures’?”

“Yes. We should breed some more malleable specimens.” Hanzo freezes, his world narrowing to just the doctor and her words and his own too quick breaths. _Breed_. “The omega would suffice, I believe his next heat is—”

“Christ on a goddamned pogo stick,” Reyes growls, irritated with everything.

“ _What_ did you say?” Jesse yells over his everyone. “He ain’t some _broodmare_ for you to put in the goddamned stocks.” 

Genji is gripping Hanzo’s shoulders, eyeing him worriedly but Hanzo is too busy checking the exits to reassure him. He is in Overwatch custody, with talk of _breeding_ and he needs to leave. As in now. 

Unfortunately, the only exit seems to be right past the people discussing said breeding. Hanzo braces himself against one of Doctor Ziegler’s sturdier machines and tries to slow his breathing. He is going to be able to do _nothing_ if he doesn’t get himself under control first.

“Well, Jesse, you seem to be sweet on the Shimada omega. Perhaps you would like to be the alpha to breed him.”

It is Hanzo’s worst nightmare and deepest fantasy all rolled into one. Lucky, lucky him. Oh, how nice it would be to be able to spend another night with Jesse like the last one, but it would be on Overwatch time under Overwatch supervision—and likely with the entire team watching. Hanzo’s previously stabilized world starts to tilt again and he thinks he might puke.

Genji is glaring in the direction of the group, as if he’s considering throwing himself into the discussion and giving everyone a piece of his mind. Hanzo rests a hand on his shoulder, reminding him that Hanzo needs him here more than there.

“ _Moira_ ,” Doctor Ziegler hisses as Jesse stutters. “That goes too far! Commander, I must stress the highly unethical nature of this proposal and I hope that you will not condone—”

“Or, perhaps we could breed the Shimada omega with the Shimada alpha,” Doctor O’Deorain continues. Hanzo’s eyes jerk up to meet Genji’s in horror. Surely, that wasn’t a serious possibility? “A pure bloodline would be the best way to ensure results. Only some people seem to find incest distasteful—”

Genji has had enough. He leaves Hanzo, barreling out from behind the machinery despite Hanzo’s best efforts to stop him. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” he shouts. “You _sick bitch_.”

“Oh,” Doctor O’Deorain says, eerily calm in the face of Genji’s rage. “The alpha. I am sure we could find a few receptive omegas—”

“You keep that six shooter in your belt,” Reyes snarls at Jesse before whirling on Genji. “And you stay put!” He turns back to Doctor O’Deorain. “Under no goddamned circumstances are we fucking _breeding_ anybody. They’re people, not livestock, goddamn it!”

“They’re prisoners, Gabriel. What’s the difference?” Doctor O’Deorain says.

Reyes growls like a jungle cat. “God _fucking_ —” A crash cuts him off, metal trays and heavy equipment tumbling to the floor.

“Moira!” Doctor Ziegler exclaims. There’s a few more thumps and another clatter.

“Hell and damnation,” Jesse spits.

“Fucking shit,” Genji swears in Japanese.

“You know you have to fill out paperwork when you do that on base,” Reyes says, his voice ramping down from his earlier rage.

“This was an emergency,” a new voice responds. Hanzo peeks around the corner to see a dark-skinned woman dressed in blue bracing her sniper rifle against the ground as she stares downward. He follows her line of sight to Doctor O’Deorain’s body lying slumped in a pile of medical equipment and Doctor Ziegler’s arms.

“Ana, I don’t think that was necessary,” Doctor Ziegler admonishes.

“Wasn’t it?” the woman asks. She looks pointedly at Genji who is pacing like a wolf whose meal has just been lost. 

“Is she dead?” Genji waves a hand at the body on the floor. Hanzo joins him. Somehow, the doctor still manages to look dangerous.

“Just taking a little nap,” Ana says, shouldering her rifle.

“Everyone just back up,” Reyes orders. “Take a break. Ana, I’ll sign off on that paperwork.”

Ana smiles. “I appreciate that, Gabriel.”

“You expect me to forget what she said?” Genji demands. “That was my _brother_ that she was talking about.”

“And you,” Hanzo adds. Trust his brother the alpha to focus only on protecting him and not his own well-being. Genji glances at him then returns to glaring at Reyes.

“I expect you hear me when I say it’s never going to happen.” Reyes crosses his arms and tilts his chin upward. Scarred and battle-worn, he looks like everything an alpha should be—and everything an omega shouldn’t.

“And why should we do that?” Hanzo asks. He knows better than to trust anything Overwatch has to say.

Reyes snorts. “Because I’ve already lived through that reality.”

“ _What?_ ” Jesse barks, echoed by Doctor Ziegler, voicing Hanzo’s inner thought. Did the doctor propose what she did because Overwatch had already done it in the past? A shiver runs down Hanzo’s back, the reality of his situation becoming just that much clearer.

Saved from the possibility of life chained to one alpha’s bed, only to be faced with being given to many—whomever Overwatch deems fit. If Hanzo wasn’t ready to puke before, he is now.

“You weren’t here back then,” Reyes tells Jesse and Doctor Ziegler.

“You’re giving away all of your secrets today, Gabriel,” Ana says and the corner of Reyes’s mouth quirks upward.

“Not all of them.” He sighs, putting his hands on his hips. 

“Reyes...” Jesse takes a step forward.

“It happened a long time ago, kid,” Reyes says. “Don’t sweat it.”

“It’s a big deal, Jefe.”

Reyes shrugs. “Sure, at the time. SEP wanted to see if omegas who had gone through the program would pass on the enhanced traits without the hassle. So I got put in a lot of different rooms with a lot of different alphas. Fun times for all ‘til I met, Jack, and you know that story.”

“ _Shit_...” Jesse breathes.

“Turns out the program made everyone infertile and that was that. So, no, not exactly anxious over here to start up some kind of demented ‘breeding’ program.” 

Hanzo nods slowly, believing the other omega’s story and feeling a burgeoning amount of respect for having survived his past. With his heat fast approaching, it’s not like Hanzo has any other options other than to spend it in Overwatch’s custody and, if he must do that, he supposes that to be under the eye of a wary Reyes is the best amount of protection that he is going to get.

Provided that Reyes follows through and keeps the doctor away from him.

Speaking of his heat, Hanzo feels a growing sense of warmth deep inside of him, a need for comfort. He wraps his arms around himself.

“Anija?” Genji asks. “Are you okay?”

Hanzo shakes his head. No, he is not okay. This is too soon!

“We’ll find you a room,” Reyes says in understanding. “Mercy!”

“On it.” Doctor Ziegler pulls out a clean needle and fills it with a solution from a bottle. “This will not stop your heat,” she says, “but it will help alleviate your symptoms.” She bobs her head to the side. “Plus, it is a contraceptive. In case you do decide you would like a partner.” Hanzo holds out his arm for her to inject him, figuring that at this point, he doesn’t have much to lose. Faced between going through his heat losing his mind and going through his heat losing only half his mind, Hanzo chooses the latter. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll just be going...” Jesse mutters and about-faces to march out the door. Hanzo stares after him, fighting the urge to chase him down and take as he pleases.

Where had that thought come from anyway?

Genji is covering his nose. “I’ll do the same.” He flees the room hot on Jesse’s heels as Ana shakes her head. 

“Weaklings,” she grumbles. “Unable to handle a little bit of pheromones.”

Reyes grins at her. “Not everyone has your self-control.”

Hanzo studies her, recognizing her scent now that Jesse’s and Genji’s have left. The older alpha looks at him gently. She has kind eyes, despite the hard lines of her face. “We’ll take care of you,” she tells him and Hanzo lowers his head. She reminds him too much of the mother than he lost. “This way.” She ushers him from the room and down the maze of hallways again. 

In the building delirium of his heat, Hanzo doesn’t even bother to map where they are going, too focused on simply putting one foot in front of the other and remaining upright. If he can make it safely inside of a room without making a fool of himself, he will take it as a win.

The alpha scent of Ana beside him isn’t helping the situation. He finds himself having to hold his own hands to stop them from reaching out to her. He grits his teeth, fighting against his own weakness. He will not debase himself for any alpha just because they are conveniently located next to him.

Except when they reach Jesse standing in a hallway and the smell of him is enough to make Hanzo’s knees buckle. Ana catches him and helps him to stand again while glaring at Jesse. “Jesse,” she tuts disapprovingly.

Jesse ducks his head and takes off his hat to scrub at his hair. “I know. I fucking know. I just...” Hanzo is transfixed by the sight of him. He _wants_. His body is craving Jesse’s touch, his scent, the entirety of him.

“He is fine.”

“I just...had to make sure? I’ll, uh, I’ll be goin’ now.”

“Wait,” Hanzo rasps, though he is unsure what he thinks he is doing calling for the alpha to stay.

Jesse pauses. The way he twirls his hat in his hand betrays his agitation, around and around. “Yeah?”

Hanzo’s heat is definitely upon him now, proposing all sorts of ill-advised ideas in its mind-melting warmth. Like stepping closer into Jesse’s space and running his fingers up Jesse’s bare arm, feeling the alpha shiver under his touch.

It’s powerful, heady, and Hanzo swallows down everything clogging his throat: his fear, his pride, his doubts. “Would you...” He dares a look at where his hand is meeting Jesse’s skin, then looks away, knowing what he is about to ask is shameful. His father would never have allowed it—would have thrown Hanzo into the depths of the estate and locked the door for even thinking it—which is why Hanzo must ask it. It is something that _he_ wants—not his father, not his family, but him. “...stay with me?”

“Oh, _darlin’_ ,” Jesse groans. “You sure make it hard on a fella to be good.”

A wild bit of hope and anticipation unfurls inside of Hanzo. He wants this alpha. He wants Jesse. Blood is rushing in his ears, brought on by a combination of nervousness and excitement, and he almost misses Jesse’s actual reply.

“You have no idea how much I want to say yes, but...I don’t think, considering everything, that would be quite right, honeybee,” Jesse mumurs and Hanzo must have heard that incorrectly.

Jesse...is turning him down?

Of course Jesse is turning him down. Why wouldn’t he? Hanzo had been foolish to even ask. Hanzo is his prisoner and a Shimada and despite the previous night that they spent together now that Jesse knows who he is, there is no way that Jesse would ever want to spend a heat with him. What self-respecting modern alpha would ever want an omega like him, raised as he was stuck in the past?

“Oh,” Hanzo says and turns away. He needs to get away, have some distance between himself and what he wants but cannot have.

“I’m real sorry,” Jesse says contritely. “It’s just, well, you know? I know how you feel about being here and all and me and I don’t want you to be resenting me none because your heat made you do things you wouldn’t choose normally. Does that make any sense?”

“I understand,” Hanzo says though he doesn’t. He knows what he wants, has offered himself, and Jesse has refused him. That is what he understands. The why, the details of it, he doesn’t think he wants to know because to think about it would just be another layer of the depressing _shit_ that dictates Hanzo’s life.

* * *

The room that Overwatch gives him to spend his heat reminds Hanzo of home. He’s not necessarily sure if that is a good comparison to notice consider he feelings about the heat room back in Hanamura, but his baser instincts appreciate the similarities. He knows how to handle this at least if nothing else at the moment.

With his life spinning out of control, he likes that there is something familiar. Even if Overwatch has probably installed cameras throughout the room.

Hanzo tries not to think about that.

He spends the first few hours lying on the bed, denying the rising heat inside of himself for as long as he can hold out. It steadily builds, licking along his insides and scorching a path to his brain. All too soon, Hanzo won’t have the luxury of simply being still. He will be out of his mind with sheer unappeased need.

He wonders how much Doctor Ziegler’s drug will help when he is deep within the burning misery of his heat, or if it will be the same thing that he has experienced again and again. He isn’t allowing himself to get his hopes up, already assuming the worst, that the drug will not help at all.

There is an assortment of toys laid out for his perusal on a side table and some of the typical run of the mill but others definitely have some novelty to them. They interest him as a point of sheer curiosity if nothing else. There are some that curve, some that roll, and some that he has no idea how he would go about using them.

Most of all, however, he tries and fails to keep his mind off of a certain alpha. Just when he thinks that maybe he has finally broken free, something new will pop in his mind: a smile, a smooth drawl, the jingle of spurs. It appears that Hanzo is well and truly stuck for the foreseeable future. He is not looking forward to when the desperation truly sets in—the emptiness and need, and how much worse it will be this time around now that his mind has something to fixate on.

With nothing but time on his hands and the impending betrayal of his own body, Hanzo has also done some reflecting. In retrospect, he had been overly harsh with Jesse simply for being an agent of Overwatch. It may just be the heat talking, wanting him to make peace with the viable alpha before he fails once again to secure a mate, but perhaps Hanzo should have given Jesse a bit more time to explain. After all, it isn’t like it was Jesse’s plan to invade Hanzo’s home. Of that, Hanzo’s pretty sure. That decision had come from much higher up—possibly higher than Reyes.

All to secure the cooperation of the Shimada clan. That must be it. Otherwise, why bother keeping him and Genji alive?

Hanzo has no idea how things might have turned out differently. It wasn’t as if Hanzo had been readily handing out his name the night that he had found Jesse in the dark. On that account, Hanzo’d had the advantage, at least knowing Jesse to be the lackey of one of Father’s associates if nothing else. In reality, it had been Hanzo’s own assumptions that had colored his expectations.

His anger had been more for himself than Jesse and now he regrets it. Might Jesse have accepted Hanzo’s invitation if Hanzo had been a bit nicer? More submissive?

More of an omega?

Hanzo sighs. Such a way of thinking is more dangerous than swimming in shark-infested waters. What do all of his what ifs matter? They are not him and so never would have been a reality.

Jesse had already rejected him. That was answer enough.

Such a loop occupies Hanzo’s thoughts throughout the hours, capturing his attention so thoroughly that he misses the moment when the door opens. Inexcusable, to have left himself so open, but the first inkling that Hanzo has that he is no longer alone is only when a voice starts talking.

“Hey.” Hanzo jumps, his head snapping to the side to stare at the man in the room with him. In the air is the smell of alpha—overpowering, rank, but still sickeningly enticing as his body slides into the hell depths of heat. Disgusting. “Miss me?” Geary asks, the door shutting behind him.

Hanzo’s lips curl into a snarl. “What are you doing here?” He slides off the bed onto his feet. He is aware of the inherent vulnerability of his position, the power that Geary currently holds over him. Trapped in a locked room with an alpha when his heat is starting to burn away his better sense, demanding that he submit to his instincts. The odds are stacked against him and he isn’t likely to be able to defend himself as easily as he had in the lab—and that is assuming that the alpha hasn’t brought anything else to try and level the playing field.

“Told you I was going to take my time with you, princess.” Geary grins, merely standing at the door. He knows that he has all the power in this situation. “You didn’t believe me?” His words seem familiar, as if they are something that Hanzo should remember—but he can’t recall instance. In his mind, he can see Geary’s initial reaction to having Hanzo under his control, the walk to the lab, and the alpha’s confident stalking—and nothing else. Hanzo’s memory fades shortly after the alpha left Hanzo alone with the doctor.

Except… Except she had given him something. What was it?

Geary laughs. “Oh, you don’t remember, do you? That’s probably on account of the drugs. They have a way of fucking with your memory. The real question is, what else did I do to you?” 

Hanzo stomach does a sickening twist at the thought that he had been at the nonexistent mercy of this alpha. What else _had_ the alpha already done to him? What liberties had been taken while Hanzo was under the influence of the doctor’s drugs? 

He roughly shoves the useless thoughts away. He doesn’t need to think about this right now. He needs to focus on the here and now.

Geary takes a deep breath and groans, his shoulders sagging. “God, you smell even better now. I knew your heat was coming up. I just had to wait.” The alpha sways closer to Hanzo. “How about you come here, princess, and I’ll show you a good time? I’ll fill you right up with my knot and give you my come.”

There’s a part of Hanzo, a small part, that wants to take the alpha up on his insinuations. It would be so easy to just surrender. To go to his knees and let the alpha have his way. It is not as if Father is here anymore—and no one would need to know how Hanzo had failed. Even as sickening as the alpha’s scent is, there is still something in it that pulls Hanzo in, a smell of alpha. Hanzo has never known the touch of an alpha during his heat. He’s tempted to give in. 

And that pisses him off. “Get out,” Hanzo growls, fighting past the haze of heat that is fogging his mind, using his anger to cut through it like a knife. His mind clears enough to focus on one thought: he wants this alpha out of his sight—and he will make that happen. Every bit of him bristles in challenge.

Geary smirks, smugly confident in his chances of success. “Princess. We’ve been over this. The doc isn’t here to interrupt us again and there sure as hell aren’t any guards. Just you and me. So how about you be a little nicer, hmm? Lie back down on that bed and spread your legs like a good omega and I’ll see about treating you right.”

As if Hanzo needs guards to win this fight. He is a Shimada. He will not go down without a fight. It simply isn’t in him to do so. He shifts into a familiar stance, one drilled into him by a lifetime of training. “I said ‘ _get out_.’” His anger sharpens even more.

Hanzo has no way of knowing if this alpha is here of his own accord or if he has been sent by someone. With Reyes’s confessions earlier, Hanzo doesn’t believe that the other omega would be behind such a thing as this, but he wouldn’t it past Overwatch the institution—after all, Reyes had told him that such a thing had happened in the past, quite against his will. Either way, it amounts to the same thing. Geary is here expecting an easy win, likely hoping that Hanzo’s heat desperation would work to his advantage.

Any other time and he might have been right. Hanzo doesn’t know if it is Doctor Ziegler’s injection, Geary’s mistiming, or something inside of himself, but his revulsion for the alpha is still front and center, drowning out any lust he might have felt otherwise and fueling his anger at the alpha’s presumption.

“You aren’t going to be saying that for long. Once your heat really starts to kick in, I suspect that you’re going to go down on your knees right quick.” Geary reaches into his pants pocket. “Still, I thought you might be difficult, so I brought a little something to help us get along better.” He brandishes a needle, holding it up so that Hanzo can get a clear view. “Swiped it from the doc.”

Doctor O’Deorain’s drug, then. The one that had swallowed hours of Hanzo’s life and left him compromised within reach of this alpha.

Hanzo grits his teeth. Inside of him, his heat is still burning, writhing like a live thing, but all of it is overlaid with fury. How dare this alpha assume that he will have an easy time forcing Hanzo to submit? Hanzo will disabuse him of that notion even if it is the last thing that he ever does. Hanzo beckons the alpha forward, inviting him to take the first move.

With the right time, Hanzo can take advantage of the alpha’s overconfidence. “Come on then,” he growls, “if you refuse to leave.”

Geary ambles forward. He pulls off the needle’s cap and pockets it. “That hungry for me, princess? I’m flattered. Your heat getting to you?”

Hanzo grins slowly, feeling a malicious mirth growing inside of him. He is hungry for something alright, though he doesn’t think that Geary will appreciate exactly what: control, revenge, an overwhelming urge to put this alpha in his place. None of which will the alpha be expecting. 

Geary lunges to catch him, lumbering like a bear, and Hanzo spins to the side, deftly avoiding the alpha’s grasping hands. A firm push to the alpha’s back sends him stumbling towards the far side of the room. Hanzo readies himself again, a fierce kind of joy flowing through his body.

He will win this fight. The skill difference between himself and Geary might as well be a chasm, even with heat melting away his rational thought.

Geary rightens himself and turns to face Hanzo again. He shakes a finger at Hanzo. “I’m going to catch you eventually, princess. So why don’t you just...” Geary feints left, then shifts back to the right, hoping to catch Hanzo off-guard but he’s laughably easy to follow. Hanzo moves out of range again, leaping onto the bed and off the other side, giving himself some room and putting a barrier between himself and the alpha.

Geary laughs again, but it has an edge of frustration to it. “Come on. Just come here already. You know you want to...” He walks around the bed slowly as if Hanzo were a spooked animal. Hanzo allows him to get within a few feet before starting to match him step for step, moving backward each time Geary moves forward. “Hold _still_.” Geary grunts as he attempts to grab Hanzo again, his hands reaching out towards Hanzo. Hanzo bats him away like swatting an annoying fly and Geary snarls. “Damn it! I said hold the fuck still—”

That’s what Hanzo has been waiting for—the rage and frustration. His lips curl up into a smile and he slams his elbow against the alpha’s head, knocking him to the side.

“ _Bitch_!” Geary swears, a hand holding where Hanzo struck him. He staggers to the right before catching himself. “Fuck. You’re gonna get it now.” He shakes his head, then barrels towards Hanzo like a blind moose, wildly swinging his arms. It’s as predictable as everything else he’s done. Hanzo grabs the alpha’s left arm and uses it to spin him around and toss him towards the wall. Geary rebounds off of it, swearing again. He clutches his nose, blood oozing from between his fingers. “You broke my fucking nose!” He lurches backward and Hanzo slides around to take the needle from his other hand. Hanzo then backhands him, sending him sprawling to the floor. 

“You’re gonna… You’re gonna regret that,” Geary threatens sluggishly as he tries to get his knees underneath of him. Pathetic. Hanzo ambles behind him and presses him back down to the floor with a foot, putting his weight on the alpha’s back to keep him in place.

“You were saying?” Hanzo asks. He drops down to straddle the alpha, feeling him squirm underneath, a feeling of power suffusing him as he gets a fist full of hair and yanks the alpha’s head to the side. Back in Hanamura, none of this would have been allowed—mere contact with an alpha forbidden, defeating one an impossibility. Gloating over his victory sheer insanity.

It’s intoxicating.

“What, what are you doing?” Geary struggles, pushing against the floor.

The same that the alpha had been planning on doing to him. “Hold still,” Hanzo tells him and injects the needle.

“Na—No, stop...” Geary’s head drops back against the floor as the drugs start to take effect. His movements turn even more sluggish, his limbs flopping like a landed fish until they slow and still. Hanzo picks up the alpha’s head and slams it against the floor to make sure, then pushes himself upward, feeling no guilt whatsoever. Geary would not have stopped if Hanzo had asked, so Hanzo affords him the very same courtesy.

With the immediate threat having been dealt with, however, Hanzo’s mind shifts out of survival mode and he notices some details that he had been previously ignoring. Most notably is the heat nearing its delirious peak inside of him. It burns away nearly all other thoughts in its ferocious devouring of Hanzo from the inside out.

Secondly, however, close on the heels of the heat, is the overwhelming _stench_ of the unconscious alpha on the floor. The entire room has become contaminated with the sheer _wrongness_ of Geary’s pheromones. Hanzo can’t stay here. His entire being is in revolt, skin crawling.

Hanzo turns towards the door out of a need to be anywhere else but here. Logically, he knows that the door should be locked. He’s expecting it to be. Geary had clearly swung the door behind him, trapping Hanzo in the room with him.

To his surprise, however, the door swings open when he touches it. Mind hazy with the heat delirium, he marvels at how the door moves on its hinges without fully processing why this is such a good thing. In fact, he can’t seem to process much at all besides the urge to leave.

He shuts the door behind him, hearing the automatic lock click into place, sealing the unconscious alpha inside. This is acceptable. The air in the hall is mercifully much clearer. There is a faint scent of alpha filling the area, overlaid with a blend of spice and gun oil. Less pungent than Geary’s scent, it welcomes Hanzo in, inviting him to investigate deeper, and he recognizes it as belonging to the older alpha that had escorted him to the room. 

Ana. Yes, she would do. Hanzo needs to find her. He moves forward, tracing the scent in the hallway.

He doesn’t have a plan, only a vague intent. He wants to appease the heat inside of him and everything beyond that is secondary. 

Until he comes across a more enticing smell. Hanzo’s entire body thrums with desire as he breathes in deep, letting the faint pheromones fill him.

 _Jesse_.

His eyes flutter closed. Yes, Jesse is what he wants—and no one else will do. Hanzo turns away from the scent of Ana and puts himself on the trail of Jesse. He stalks down the new hallway, hunting his quarry. Each step brings him closer to the source of that sweet scent, to Jesse. His hands start to tremble but Hanzo stills them through force of will.

Inside him is burning up.

Following Jesse’s earlier path, Hanzo swiftly navigates the hallways, turning corners and walking past sectors in his single-mindedness. He stays to the sides, avoiding the cameras as much as possible, and readies himself to fight at any moment. It is fortunate that Jesse also seems to have avoided the security measures, having turned before he would have reached a checkpoint. Twice.

His journey ends at a door. Locked, it stands as an obstacle between him and his desire. He glares down at the keypad, wondering if sheer random guessing at the numbers would yield him anything but frustration.

He braces his hand against the door, fingers traveling over the smooth surface and takes another deep breath. It isn’t real and it isn’t good enough, but if he focuses hard enough, he can imagine that Jesse stands in front of him, receptive and waiting. Hanzo licks his lips. He presses harder on the door, growling when it stays stubbornly put, then turns his attention back to the keypad.

The door opens on its own and a blast of raw alpha pheromones nearly sends Hanzo to his knees. “What the—Ha—Hanzo?” Jesse asks, standing frozen in the doorway. He stares at Hanzo in confusion despite his scent being exceedingly clear.

Hanzo can’t stop himself, moving before he has even processed his intent, working completely on instinct. He straightens his legs and leaps towards Jesse, shoving the alpha back into the room and taking him to the floor. He buries his nose against Jesse’s neck, needing to be as close to the source of the scent as possible.

“Wh-wh-what’s goin’ on?” Jesse stutters, sounding panicked. “Why aren’t you in the heat room and—oh _hell_ , you smell so damn good.” Jesse’s hands flutter, unsure if they should touch or not and Hanzo solves the problem by pinning them above Jesse’s head and licking a long, sure stripe of intent up Jesse’s cheek.

Jesse lets out a breath as if he were punched. “Uh…

“ _Alpha_...” Hanzo whispers and flattens himself against Jesse, rubbing himself along every part he can reach.

“You—” Jesse slips his hands free and grips Hanzo’s shoulders, putting a small bit of space between them. Hanzo growls and struggles against the hold, trying to pry Jesse’s hands away. Jesse groans. “Cripes that’s hot...” he mutters then shakes himself, physically tossing aside the thought. “Listen, Hanzo. You’re in your heat, darlin’. You don’t know what you’re doing—” Hanzo rolls his hips in response, pushing his need against Jesse’s belly, and Jesse swears. “ _Fuck..._ Okay, so maybe you know what you’re doing—but not _who_ , darlin’ and if you were in your right mind, I know that—”

“ _Jesse_.” Hanzo smooths his palms over Jesse’s chest, fingers mapping the curves and ridges underneath Jesse’s clothes. He remembers them.

Jesse eyes flick up to meet Hanzo’s. “Yeah, darlin’?”

“Jesse is beneath me.” Hanzo reaches downward, sloting his hand between them to travel up Jesse’s growing length. “Jesse the alpha.” Whom Hanzo needs very, very badly.

Hanzo is burning up and Jesse is the only one that can put out the fire inside of him.

Jesse winces as he bucks into Hanzo’s grip. “Oh, that I am, darlin’. Definitely an alpha with an omega in heat on top of me and, _fuck_ , I am so not going to make it...” He takes a deep breath and moans, his eyes squeezing shut. “ _Goddamn_. You know, darlin’, I, uh...” Hanzo strokes him again. Jesse is weakening. Hanzo can tell. “ _Hell_. I left my hat...” Licking his lips, Hanzo undoes the buckle of Jesse’s belt and pulls the length through the ring. “Left my hat in the oven!” Jesse finishes with a squeak.

Jesse’s rambling is merely background noise at this point. All Hanzo can hear past the rushing in his ears is the timber of Jesse’s voice and his own desires. The words do not register anymore, the heat too far advanced for Hanzo to be able to make meaning of the nonsense English. With Jesse warm and solid between Hanzo’s thighs and the evidence of Jesse’s desire pressing against him, Hanzo has descended into merely the physical. He can feel how soaked the entirety of his lower half is, how it is readying itself for Jesse, and it makes him toss out the last small bit of his inhibitions. Giving into temptation, he presses his advantage and shoves his hand into Jesse’s pants to wrap his fingers around Jesse’s hard length.

The resultant groan sounds as if it is pulled from the very depths of Jesse’s soul and the hands on Hanzo’s shoulders lose their firmness, releasing Hanzo to do as he pleases. “Ah, hell...” Jesse rasps. He skims his hands over Hanzo’s chest and down to his hips, cupping them with a gentle grip. “I am going to get in such deep shit for this,” he mutters. Licking his lips, he urges Hanzo to rock forward, to drag his wetness over Jesse’s hard cock. “And it’s going to be so worth it.” His right hand slips between Hanzo’s legs to delve beneath Hanzo’s underwear. He gives Hanzo’s cock a hard stroke, then moves downward still to slide a finger into Hanzo’s wetness. “Do you want me, darlin’?” His finger makes a circular motion and then dips inside. The noise is obscene but Hanzo can’t help making a lewd sound to echo it. Having Jesse inside of him—even if just a part—is making him lose what little bit of his mind he had left. “You want me inside you?”

Hanzo nods hurriedly. Yes. Yes, he wants that. Hanzo breathlessly pushes himself upward to look at Jesse’s face, taking in the need that mirrors his own, and presses his lips to Jesse’s—just as he has wanted to do since the night that he left Jesse in that room. “Hell...” Jesse whispers and wraps an arm around Hanzo, holding on tightly as he kisses back. Hanzo buries his hands in Jesse’s hair, grabbing fistfuls as he loses himself in Jesse’s kiss—the smooth glide of lips, the slick slide of tongues, the infrequent sting of a nip of teeth.

The scent of Jesse’s alpha pheromones infuses him, snaking through his insides, and somewhat easing the ache of his heat. He still feels the burning warmth, but it is fuller somehow, less of a wound and more of a balm—a momentary relief.

Beneath him, Jesse sighs. “Okay, darlin’. Okay.” He shifts, sliding partially out from under Hanzo and Hanzo reacts on instinct to pin him to the ground before he manages to escape completely. Jesse needs to stay right where he is. “Oof.” Jesse drops his head back against the ground. “Message received there, sugar. And I am on board with the plan, I am.” He smooths his hands over Hanzo’s thighs, rubbing his palms over bare skin. “Oh, believe me I am. But I was hoping that maybe we could move this to the bed? What do you think?”

Hanzo stares down at Jesse, not comprehending, until his brain sluggishly manages to process Jesse’s words and not just the low sound of his voice. A bed...would be nice. Hanzo slowly nods and inches backward just enough to let Jesse sit up.

“There we go.” Jesse sits up. He studies Hanzo’s face, then drops his eyes down to where Hanzo’s robe is gaping open along his chest and back up again. “You make just the prettiest damn picture I have ever seen.”

The compliment stokes the fires inside of Hanzo and he bites his lip to stop himself from giving away too much of his reaction. “I could...say the same,” he admits roughly. This is a very handsome man that Hanzo currently has between his thighs.

“Shall we?” Jesse asks, gesturing behind him to the bed, and though he is loathe to do it, Hanzo stands up, removing himself from Jesse’s body. Jesse follows him, stepping in close to wrap his arms around Hanzo’s waist. Hanzo shudders and leans against Jesse’s solid chest. “We’re just going to walk a little ways...” Together, they sway, slowly moving further into the room. The door closes behind them and some part of Hanzo is alarmed by that, the implication of being trapped, but the small protest is quickly melted by the smoldering fire of his heat.

He _wants_ to be in a room with this particular alpha.

He also knows that he doesn’t have long before the true desperation sets in, the mindless need when his heat reaches it’s peak. He hopes that this time will be easier than all of his last, but nothing is for certain and there is still a small kernel of fear inside of him.

It was one thing to freely give Jesse his virginity, but this is a heat. Hanzo will not be in control for this and that is a horrifying thought. What depravity will Hanzo sink to? The very idea of it makes him hestitate.

“Hey there,” Jesse whispers as he tilts Hanzo’s chin up, distracting him from his spiraling thoughts. “Don’t think so much.” He gently kisses Hanzo, brushing his lips over Hanzo’s, then moving to his cheek, his jaw, his temple. Hanzo sighs at the soft pleasure and runs his hands up Jesse’s arms, once again feeling their strength. “Here. Let me just...” Jesse grips his shirt and pulls it over his head to leave himself half-naked in front of Hanzo. He tosses his clothes away and holds still, letting Hanzo wonderingly explore him. “Ain’t gonna do anything you don’t want to do.” Hanzo touches Jesse’s skin, feeling the heat of his body, and his breath catches in his throat. He follows the line of Jesse’s arm up to Jesse’s shoulder and down to cup the rounded muscle of his chest—presses against it to feel the strength contained there. His fingers brush over Jesse’s nipple and a breathy growl rumbles in Jesse’s throat. Hanzo follows the noise to its source, pressing his nose underneath Jesse’s jaw and nipping at the sensitive skin of his neck.

Jesse’s large hands trail over Hanzo’s hips, fingers relearning the lines of Hanzo’s body, and travel upwards to skim Hanzo’s sides and back. Hanzo shivers in response. “Thought about this a lot, to be honest,” Jesse confesses. “Ever since that night, I ain’t wanted anyone else but you.” A growl rumbles in Hanzo’s throat, his fingers digging into Jesse’s body as he attempts to get himself as close as possible. “Thought I was ruined for sure. Thought about maybe finding you again, never even fuckin’ dreamin’ about how it all would turn out.”

Jesse’s words are making the heat inside of Hanzo unbearable. He aches with need and unable to stand it anymore, he pulls Jesse down for a kiss, seeking to devour him. Jesse allows Hanzo to lead, giving himself away freely and when Hanzo finally lets him up for air, Jesse’s eyes are the heavy-lidded embodiment of Hanzo’s lust. “Can I call you by your name this time?” Jesse asks.

Hanzo nods. He would like that. “Yes.”

“Hanzo...” Jesse breathes, and goes in for another kiss as he drags Hanzo forward, scooting onto the bed and encouraging Hanzo to follow. Hanzo crawls onto the bed with Jesse, needing to keep them connected, and slots himself between Jesse’s legs. He lays on top of Jesse, his hands bracing on either side of Jesse’s chest, keeping the axis of control. Against his stomach a familiar hardness is growing and Hanzo shivers.

Inside of him, his heat burns hotter. It wants.

Hanzo flattens a hand to Jesse’s stomach and dips his fingers beneath the outline of Jesse’s pants again, sliding in deep as Jesse breaks off the kiss with a curse, bucking at Hanzo’s touch. 

“Yeah, darlin’...” Jesse presses one last kiss against Hanzo’s lips before leaning away to struggle out of the rest of his clothes. They go the same way as his shirt, flinging to the far side of the room, before Jesse is back to kissing Hanzo and there is nothing between Hanzo and the entirety of Jesse’s body.

Hanzo’s lungs catch, refusing to draw in air for a brief moment as his mind processes that Jesse is beneath him, offering himself to Hanzo, letting Hanzo touch wherever he pleases. Jesse’s stomach twitches under Hanzo’s fingers as Hanzo once again starts at a place of safety before heading towards his true goal.

Jesse swears again as Hanzo’s hand grazes over his hard cock, hips rolling with the touch. Hanzo deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue along Jesse’s as his fingers grip Jesse’s cock and stroke it from root to tip. Jesse moans.

Jesse pushes Hanzo’s robe up his arm, tracing the outline of Hanzo’s forearm and bicep until he can reach no more, then switches to Hanzo’s chest. He slips his fingers underneath of Hanzo’s robe, pushing it to the side to bare more of Hanzo. “Can I?” he asks and Hanzo impatiently shoves the offending cloth off of himself as an answer. 

“Well, hell,” Jesse breathes. “That’s just plain hot.” Jesse stops and stares for a moment and Hanzo spurs him on by grabbing one of Jesse’s hands and placing it along his chest. Jesse’s thumb brushes Hanzo’s nipple and Hanzo shivers as he moves in for another kiss.

He traces the length of Jesse’s cock, teasing at the head where Jesse is steadily leaking. “Oh, yes, please,” Jesse whispers, and slides his hands downward over Hanzo’s stomach. One hand wraps around Hanzo’s cock and Hanzo gasps as the raw pleasure jolts up his spine. Jesse’s other hand dips beneath to slide between his folds, a finger slipping inside.

Hanzo remembers how it felt to have Jesse inside of him, filling him completely. He pants with the need to repeat the experience, driven by the ache starting to surge inside of him. He needs more than just Jesse’s fingers. 

Jesse groans. “Darlin’, you think you can do something for me?”

Hanzo licks his lips as he looks at Jesse. Jesse is a feast laid out before him. “What?”

“Sit on my face.” Hanzo’s eyes widen. “If you’d like.” Jesse lies back down on the bed. “I’d really like it if you would.” His hands wrap around the backs of Hanzo’s thighs.

Hanzo swallows, his face flushing red as he stares at Jesse’s mouth. Does he… Perhaps… He shifts forward, moving himself over Jesse’s stomach, then pauses again. It is embarrassing. Could he really...do that?

“That’s it, darlin’,” Jesse whispers. “Just a little closer, I’m begging you.” His fingers flex against Hanzo’s skin—not forcing, but more reminding Hanzo that they are there.

Throwing caution to the wind, Hanzo strips off his underwear and moves the rest of the way, positioning himself over Jesse’s head. Hanzo’s robe is still preserving his modesty for the rest of the room, but Hanzo is intimately aware that Jesse has a full view. 

Jesse’s hands move to encircle the tops of Hanzo’s thighs and a flexible wetness prods at Hanzo’s folds. Hanzo gasps. He’s spread open as Jesse’s tongue licks inside of him, sliding over the ridges and crevices of his pussy. He rocks forward, bracing himself against the wall to keep his face out of it as his entire body starts to shake.

He had never dreamed…

Jesse’s clever tongue licks him again, swirling and twisting, and Hanzo cannot stop himself from moaning. He presses his forehead against the wall and voices the pleasure that Jesse is giving him as Jesse pushes his face upwards between Hanzo’s legs.

One of Jesse’s hands diverts from Hanzo’s thigh to his cock and Hanzo’s body throbs with desire. The world flashes white and Hanzo sags against the wall as he pants. His heart is racing, the heat inside of him momentarily banked.

“Oh, hell, darlin’,” Jesse groans. “You have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

Hanzo could very well ask him the same question. He doesn’t think that he can move quite yet.

Jesse nuzzles against Hanzo’s pussy and Hanzo gasps as an aftershock of pleasure ripples through him. He lifts himself upward, moving off of Jesse’s face, but nearly thinks better of it when sees Jesse licking his lips. Perhaps it was better when Hanzo couldn’t see the alpha’s reaction.

“Omega slick,” Jesse rumbles, tongue licking at the corner of his mouth. “There ain’t anything better, I swear.” He reaches down and grips the base of his cock. “I am ready whenever you are, darlin’. I know that heats usually require a bit more than the normal.”

The heat that Hanzo had thought was gone comes roaring back, nearly consuming him. _Yes_ , his body shouts. Yes, he wants that. Hanzo moans as he shifts into an instinctive position, on his knees with his head resting on his folded arms. His hips sway, silently begging and Jesse whimpers.

“Oh, that’s playing dirty, sugar.” Jesse rolls himself onto his knees and places his hands on Hanzo’s hips. “You sure about this? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Hanzo hisses. His hands clench in the sheets. He needs Jesse inside of him, needs him to ease the growing ache.

“Okay,” Jesse says and Hanzo inhales sharply as he feels the tip of Jesse’s dick pressing against his entrance. Yes, that is what he needs. He rocks backward, forcing Jesse to slip inside. “Go easy on me, sugar...” Jesse mutters. “I’m going to go slow.”

Slow is not what Hanzo needs. Breeding is what he needs. This is a _heat_. Hanzo’s patience is at an end.

Hanzo pushes himself farther back, forcing more of Jesse inside of him. Jesse whimpers. “Have mercy, sugar. I don’t want to hurt you none.”

“It hurts to not have you inside,” Hanzo rasps. He feels empty, aching with a need that only Jesse can fill.

“Okay,” Jesse says and finally—finally--moves forward on his own. Hanzo moans into the bed. “You, uh, want the knot? ‘Cause we’re close approaching that moment.”

Jesse’s knot. A stab of desire pierces through Hanzo’s lower stomach. “ _Yes._ ” He needs Jesse’s knot inside of him, stretching him to the fullest, locking them together. All of Hanzo’s heats, he has only been able to dream of such a thing, to ache and pine, but this time, he will finally get to ease that need inside of him. “Yes,” he repeats and pushes backwards again.

“Fuck, okay...” Jesse bows over him, covering him, muttering to himself as he pushes himself steadily forward. “Oh, hell, that’s good… Keep it together, McCree, for the love of all that’s—oh _hell_...” He pumps himself in and out of Hanzo, each outward thrust catching more and more until there is nothing left to give and he is truly stuck, having reached the outer threshold of Hanzo’s ability to accommodate him.

Hanzo whimpers weakly into the bedsheets as shocks of pleasure spark along his nerves. He has never felt so full. Jesse grinds his hips against Hanzo’s, moving as much as he can now that they are locked together. 

Hanzo gulps at the air, feeling the raw power of his heat starting to recede.

Above him, Jesse groans into his release, his cock pulsing inside of Hanzo. Hanzo sighs and tilts his hips up to better accommodate his alpha, appeasing an instinctive need inside of himself.

Jesse’s hand fumbles between his legs, bumping into Hanzo’s cock and grabbing hold. He strokes Hanzo hard and fast. “Come on, darlin’,” he mutters. “Go ahead and come for me.” Hanzo groans, his hands tightening into fists on the sheets. He feels so full, his body stretched around Jesse’s knot. With Jesse’s warm body curved over top of him, around him, inside him.

He comes for the second time, his entire body shaking. 

It’s all too much. The world goes black.

* * *

It takes two more times for Hanzo’s heat to truly recede. Two more times of desperate panting and begging and Jesse’s smooth drawl attempting to sooth him.

The last time, Hanzo falls onto his side, gasping, and Jesse lays behind him. They are still joined and their bodies are slick with sweat, but Hanzo feels a familiar relief inside that means that his heat is retreating. The burn of his heat is gone, no longer licking through his insides and driving him mad with need. If he were home, this would mean that he would only have half a day left before he would be able to rejoin his corner of the world—a few hours to rest and recover and bathe himself in the hopes of pleasing Father and being considered acceptable.

Here? Here, Jesse lays with him, his knot still buried deep inside. Hanzo flushes and tries to shift away—flushes more when he feels a pull at his insides. Wonderingly, he reaches downward, tentatively feeling out how he is still stretched around Jesse’s knot, how they are still connected.

Behind him, Jesse moans and nuzzles at his ear. “It’s almost down, sugar. Just give it a few. More if you keep touching it like that.” Embarrassed at having been caught, Hanzo yanks his hand back. 

Hanzo swallows, his mind still processing his situation. If anything would be a rejection of his father’s plan for him, it would be this. Father would consider this to be a sinful failing. What would he say if he were to find Hanzo like this? Lying with Jesse, with the evidence of their coupling still on full display?

Hanzo already knows the answer. “Father will disown me for this,” he mutters. 

“What?” Jesse shifts, his hand smoothing down Hanzo’s shoulder. “Now, that can’t be right. Thing like this?” He presses a kiss to Hanzo’s back.

Hanzo huffs a laugh. Of course Jesse cannot understand. Why would he? He was not raised the same as Hanzo and, more to the point, he is an alpha. Like Genji, he probably has no inkling about how much different the world has been for Hanzo. Hanzo shakes his head. “He would toss me out of his house if he knew.”

He stares ahead at the wall and tries to think how he feels about all of this. It is hard to push past the lazy contentment that inhabits his physical body and it isn’t as if he had ever been taught to prize his emotions, to understand them, reflect upon them. The opposite, in fact. What were emotions to an assassin? Even to one that wouldn’t be allowed in the outside world?

As a Shimada, Hanzo understands duty and honor. He has failed both here for momentary pleasure.

In the past, that would have horrified him. Now?

Now, the most confusing thing is how little it seems to matter.

His father is not here. His walled-off garden of a world is not here. What is here is Jesse, who tenderly caresses Hanzo’s skin and does not demand anything from him.

Hanzo likes it here.

“Well, that’s a cryin’ shame, then. I don’t know much about your dad, but if that’s how he would treat you, don’t think I’d want to know him none, either.” Hanzo is startled into laughing, curling into the bed as his entire chest starts to shake. “I say something funny?”

Hanzo shakes his head again as he laughter fades. “You wouldn’t understand.” Hanzo would never be able to truly explain it. He isn’t sure he understands it himself.

“I got an aunt,” Jesse says, tossing it out into the air. “She don’t want much to do with me. Lives out by the ocean. Or at least I think she does. I haven’t seen her since I was little.”

“Why does she not want to see you?” Hanzo asks, curious. He appreciates Jesse telling him. It takes his mind off of thinking too much.

Jesse shrugs. “I’m too rotten.”

Hanzo turns to glance over his shoulder in disbelief. From what he could tell of Jesse, ‘rotten’ isn’t a word that he would use to describe him.

“I wasn’t always the nicest guy, believe me.” Jesse sighs. “If it weren’t for Reyes, I would have probably been dead a long time ago—bullet in my head for some stupid reason or other. Deadlock tends to chew you up and then leave you for the buzzards. That’s the gang I was in. ‘Deadlock.’ It still exists. Still as rotten as ever.”

Hanzo shifts a bit more to get a better look at Jesse. “How did you get out?” He is surprised to know that Jesse hadn’t always followed Overwatch’s path. 

Jesse tucks a piece of Hanzo’s hair back behind his ear. “Overwatch came. Cleared out the gang for a little while. Guess Reyes saw something in me because he took me out of that dying piece of desert. Gave me a choice.”

“A choice?”

Jesse shrugs. “Either work for Reyes or spend the rest of my days in a cell. Wasn’t too hard of a decision after I had some time to think it over. Things I’d done, I was going to go to prison for a long time—longer than I’d been alive, that was for sure. Life in Blackwatch, though? Gave me a way to start paying off all that debt I’d racked up.” 

Jesse moves, shifting his hips backward, and Hanzo gasps as the knot finally pops free and the entirety of Jesse’s dick slips out of him. “Sorry,” Jesse mutters. “Should have given you a little warning.” After feeling full for so long, it is strange to be empty again. Hanzo moves to sit up, blushing a little at the ache in his nether regions.

It hits him that this is the first time that he has ever talked to someone so soon after his heat ending. He drops his eyes to the bed, wondering if he should feel ashamed or not. Some part of him thinks that maybe he should be, but he’s too contented and exhausted to try.

“So,” Jesse says, sitting up as well. “Here I am. Blackwatch was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Hanzo pushes aside his thoughts of whether he should feel ashamed or not. “Blackwatch?” he asks. It isn’t the first time that Jesse had mentioned the word. 

“Part of Overwatch. It’s the little band I’m in. Along with Reyes and some others.”

Other questions sit at the tip of Hanzo’s tongue, but before he can answer them, a sharp electronic squeal interrupts. Hanzo jumps, looking around, but Jesse only winces. “Here we go...” he says.

“ _McCree_ ,” a voice snaps.

Jesse’s eyes roll up towards the ceiling as he answers. “Yeah boss?”

“You had better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”

Jesse brings his eyes back down to Hanzo, a slow grin starting on his face. Hanzo’s heart skips a beat as Hanzo remembers once again that Jesse McCree is a _very_ attractive alpha.

“Can’t say as if I know what that is, Jefe,” Jesse drawls.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. I’ve got video footage of a Shimada coming to your door.”

Hanzo’s blood freezes in his veins and he drops his eyes. Oh. “ _Fuck..._ ,” he whispers. Hanzo hadn’t even been thinking about that. He hadn’t been thinking about much at all at the moment—couldn’t think beyond his own need, let alone consider future consequences.

Jesse shake his head and puts a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “It’s fine,” he mouths. Hanzo severely doubts that. He looks about for his clothes even though he stays in place on the bed. “Well, now, about that...” he says to Reyes.

“Don’t even try to talk your way out of this one, cowboy. You took advantage of a prisoner. Do you understand what that means?”

Jesse winces, his mouth twisting sourly.

Took advantage of? Hanzo tilts his head to the side as he deciphers the meaning to Reyes’s words. He feels…

Angry. “Jesse did not take advantage of me,” Hanzo says loudly to the room.

“Now, sugar...” Jesse starts.

“What the hell, he’s still with you?”

“Jesse did not take advantage of me,” Hanzo repeats. Hanzo has been taken advantage of by alphas before. This had been nothing of the sort. “I came to him.”

“Leaving a secure room, I might add,” Reyes says. “But that doesn’t mean--”

“Jesse did not take advantage of me,” Hanzo snarls, repeating it even stronger this time. “I have been taken advantage by alphas my whole life, Commander Reyes. Do not insult me by saying that I would not know the difference.”

“Aw, hell,” Jesse mutters, dropping his head. “I’m sorry, darlin’...”

Hanzo shoves Jesse. He does not need anyone to feel sorry for him. He needs to have his decisions recognized as his own to make. Jesse lands with an ‘oof’. “I came to him. I asked him.” The shame that Hanzo hadn’t been feeling before, comes rushing in and he flushes as he confesses, “If anything, I took advantage of him.”

Reyes sighs over the intercom. “That’s not even remotely how any of this works.”

Hanzo clenches his fists. “That I cannot choose the alpha that I prefer after one was set on me?” he demands. The more he thinks about it, the angrier he gets. “Are all of your words just for show, then? Was my brother right? Do they mean nothing?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jesse says, pushing himself back up.

“ _What alpha?_ ” Reyes snarls. 

“The one I left bleeding on the floor!” Hanzo growls back. “Like I will do to all the rest!” He will not become an Overwatch—Blackwatch--whatever broodmare. The next alpha that comes for him, he will do worse to.

“Left _where_?”

“In your ‘secure room’,” Hanzo says mockingly. It certainly had been secure enough for an alpha to waltz in on a whim.

“I’ll get back to you,” Reyes snaps. “Reyes out.”

Hanzo slams a fist into the bed in frustration. For one brief moment, he had forgotten that he was a prisoner, that he had left his walled garden for a cell, his jailers no longer family but the entirety of Overwatch. Neither option is better than the other.

“You were attacked?” Jesse asks quietly. His hand hovers over Hanzo’s arm as if he is afraid to touch Hanzo now—as if he is afraid that, despite all that they have done, right here, in this bed, that Hanzo might break if Jesse were to touch him. Hanzo knocks his hand away in frustration.

He regrets it as soon as he does it. He had wanted Jesse to touch him. He had wanted the chance to pretend that this is anything but what it actually is. 

Of course Reyes is mad. Jesse has ruined a prized possession. If this were Hanamura, Jesse’s life would be forfeit.

And Hanzo would be quietly married off to some low level officer in disgrace. Unless his father’s money could bury the whole shameful affair. Either way, Hanzo would be unlikely to see the sky again.

Just as he is now.

At least back in Hanamura, Hanzo could go where he liked in the family complex, even out to the courtyard. Here, he has nothing but cement walls.

“In the cell,” Hanzo rasps.

“The heat room?”

“The _cell_ ,” Hanzo corrects, “where they put me to wait out my heat.”

“Did you know who it was?”

Hanzo huffs a laugh. “Does it matter?” He imagines that over the years, there will be many that are sent to him that he will not know. “He was sent to me.”

Jesse shakes his head. “Darlin’, ain’t nobody supposed to be in that room with you. Don’t know what that alpha was doing there, but he weren’t sent.”

Hanzo glares at Jesse. “I am not stupid.”

“Didn’t say you were!” Jesse’s hands fly upwards to his shoulders. “You’re as prickly as a cactus, you know that?” Hanzo blinks, unable to translate the English, stuck on ‘prickly’ and ‘cactus’. “And probably for good reason, so please don’t get mad at me for saying so. I’m just saying, sugar, that alpha, he wasn’t supposed to be there and Reyes? He’s going to have alpha balls for dinner, believe you me. I wouldn’t want to be that guy.”

“You believe that.” Hanzo studies Jesse’s face.

Jesse nods solemnly. “I do.” He drops his hands. “Look, I know you don’t put much stock in Overwatch, but there are rules that are followed. Protecting an omega during heat, that’s big.” As if sensing Hanzo’s upcoming objection, he points at Hanzo. “And goddamned Moira don’t count. Trust me, Reyes ain’t going to let her do any of that shit that she wants to. And now we know to watch a lot more carefully.” Jesse pauses, his eyes searching for something inside his head rather than in the room before he comes back to Hanzo. “Was it fucking Geary? Was he the one who attacked you?”

Hanzo nods, seeing no reason to hide Geary’s identity from Jesse, despite his surprise at Jesse’s accurate guess.

“I’ll kill him if Reyes doesn’t,” Jesse promises, but Hanzo shakes his head.

“No.”

“No? He attacked you—”

“I will kill him myself.” Hanzo knows hundreds of ways to kill a man. He is perfectly capable of killing Geary himself.

“Fair enough.” Jesse nods. “Though, I would suggest, maybe letting Reyes handle the whole mess. Less paperwork.”

Hanzo shrugs. He has nothing to fear from Overwatch paperwork.

“Um, so how are you feeling?” Hanzo levels a look at Jesse. “Just wondering if you need anything. On account of the, you know, heat, and everything.”

Hanzo slumps against the bed, his anger having drained and with it, his will to be upright. “If you want to take a nap or something, I’ll keep watch if that would make you feel better.”

Hanzo lets his eyes slide closed. “Yes,” he says simply, and lets himself fall asleep, content in the knowledge that, Overwatch or not, Jesse will keep him safe.

* * *

It is hours later when Hanzo rouses again. His heat slowly fading into memory, his body recovered, he slides off the bed and starts to gather his clothes.

“That time already?” Jesse asks regretfully.

Hanzo spares him a look before turning away. “It is time that I return to my brother.” They have been apart for far too long as it is. He must verify that Genji is alright.

Jesse nods and gets up himself. His belt buckle jingles as he scoops up his jeans. “Reckon we’ve got quite a few things waitin’ for us.”

Hanzo adjusts his robe, wishing that he had better clothes than what he had been abducted in but not about to ask his jailers. “What do you mean?”

Jesse sighs. “I mean more for me, I suppose. There’s an ass-chewin’ comin’ my way that I ain’t lookin’ forward to.”

“I have already told your commander that I accept full responsibility.”

“Yeah, well, that ain’t going to mean much, though I appreciate the thought.”

Hanzo frowns. “My word is not good enough?”

“Oh, it’s not that, sugar,” McCree says as he zips up his jeans.

“Then what?”

Jesse rests his hands on his hips and considers the floor. “More of a moral failin’ on my part? That’s how Reyes will see it. He’s real big on everyone acceptin’ the consequences of their own actions. And, well, you can accept responsibility all you want, but it two to do this tango, you know what I mean?”

“Then he should be angry at me as well, should he not?” After all, it had been Hanzo that had come to Jesse, not the other way around. In fact, the cowboy had _rejected_ his earlier offer, only accepting in the face of Hanzo’s clear desperation.

“And likely he is. But there’s a difference between a subordinate and a guest.”

Hanzo snorts. “Still insisting on this ‘guest’ nonsense.”

“It ain’t nonsense. It’s the truth.”

“I was taken from my home and I cannot leave. My accommodations can be lavish, my every need seen to, but that doesn’t make me a ‘guest’.”

“Alright. Ain’t no sense in arguing.” Jesse busies himself in a drawer and Hanzo accepts his victory with a nod, feeling no need to make his point any more obvious. It is already as clear as day.

A pair of pants smack into his shoulder and Hanzo catches them before they fall. Heather gray and soft, they seem as if they’d fit. He glances back over at Jesse who shrugs. “Figured you might like something clean. Got a shirt you can borrow too, if you’d like.”

Hanzo slowly pulls the pants on under his robe. Though they’re a bit long, they fit nicely everywhere else and Hanzo is satisfied until he finds something more suitable. He catches the shirt before it hits his head and changes out of his robe.

“Now, my brother?” he asks, then stops dead as he realizes that Jesse’s door is already open and Commander Reyes is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

“Oh, he’s down in the training room,” Reyes growls. He prowls into the center of the room, looking like a big jungle cat about to devour its prey. 

“Training room?” Hanzo asks.

“Kid was bored without you. How about you go join him? Harper will escort you. He’s just outside.” Reyes jerks his thumb at the hallway behind him. Hanzo looks at the open door, then swings back around and looks at Jesse. “McCree and I have a few things to discuss, first.”

“Commander Reyes...” Hanzo starts, unsure what words he should say in this moment. He feels a need to defend Jesse, but also an overwhelming urge to go find Genji.

Jesse waves him off. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, will you now?” Reyes raises an eyebrow. “I suppose you think that everything is just A-okay that you took full advantage of an omega in Overwatch care?”

Jesse winces. “Now, Jefe, that ain’t exactly a fair assessment of the situation...” His smooth drawl has slid into a childish whine and Hanzo shakes his head.

Yes. Jesse will likely be fine. Genji is the more pressing concern. 

A guard is indeed waiting out in the hall. A beta, he smiles at Hanzo. “I’m Harper,” he says and gestures down the hall. “So, you want to see your brother?” Hanzo nods and resists the urge to adjust his clothes. They are fine, perfectly in place, and he refuses to show fear. “He’s down in the training room. Been there for awhile. He reminds me of my kid brother, you know?” Hanzo wonders for a brief moment if he is required to respond, but his answer is apparently ‘no’ as Harper continues on rambling. “Yeah. He’s a pistol, I swear. So full of energy. Not that he’s as good of a fighter as your brother, oh no, he’d get his ass kicked for sure, though he’d claim otherwise. And, hey, I have an omega sister. You kind of remind me of her.”

Hanzo twists his lips. He’s willing to guess that all he and this sister happen to share is an omega designation, but that’s enough to keep Harper going. He talks the entire way through the winding maze of corridors before they arrive at a gym, workout machines lining the walls and punching bags along the far side. There is a crowd gathered in the center of the facility and Harper grins at Hanzo. “That’d be your brother,” he says. “He’s kind of popular around here.”

Hanzo joins the crowd, maneuvering his way through the packed bodies. A hand catches at his waist and Hanzo jerks away from it. He turns and glares at the man that the offending appendage belongs to and the alpha in question panics, holding up his hands in alarm. “Sorry! Sorry!” He backs away from Hanzo, pushing against the people behind him. Hanzo turns away and keeps heading towards the center of the throng.

He’s just in time to see Genji swing a lumbering ox twice his size over his shoulder and then readily sit on the man’s body, smirking from ear to ear. Hanzo briefly glances around at the assembled audience, verifying if anyone will come to the man’s aid.

“Fuck,” the fallen man swears. “That fucking hurt.”

“Do you give up?” Genji asks.

“Christ. Yes,” the man says and Genji jumps up, bouncing a little. “I think you threw my shoulder out.”

Genji shrugs. “Sorry,” he says insincerely. “I did warn you.”

The man nods as he slowly climbs to his feet. “Yeah, you did.”

“I am still ready.” Genji punches his left palm. “Who is next?” At least half a dozen attempt to step forward at once and Genji laughs. “Whoa. Wait your turn.” His eyes fall on Hanzo and his smile drops. “Hanzo!” He rushes into Hanzo’s space. “Are you...are you…feeling….better?” Each word comes halting, as if he is unsure if they are the appropriate word to say.

Hanzo understands what Genji is attempting to tiptoe around and answers his brother with a short nod. “Yes. Everything is fine.”

Genji smiles again. “Good.” He looks around, noting the crowd that is still gathered around them. “I’ve been having fun.”

“It looks like it.”

“You could cheer me on.” Yes. Hanzo could do that. He could stand on the sidelines as he has always done during Genji’s lessons, watching Genji’s triumphs one after another while craving his own time in the ring. 

Or he could join his brother.

“Or you could face me.”

Genji turns away from his adoring fans. “What?”

“You could face me,” Hanzo repeats.

Genji stares for a moment and then chuckles. “It is good that you are keeping your sense of humor.”

A small kernel of anger ignites inside of Hanzo at his brother dismissing him so easily. “I am serious.”

“Hanzo...” Genji’s smile drops. “You know it is not allowed...”

Now, it is Hanzo’s turn to laugh. “By who? By Father? By the elders? By Hanamura tradition? None of that is here.”

Genji casts about to either side of Hanzo, like he might find a magical answer hidden just above Hanzo’s shoulder, before focusing directly on Hanzo. “Hanzo, you are an omega.”

“And you afraid of being beaten,” Hanzo taunts.

Genji rears back. “No!” he denies.

“Then face me.” Hanzo slides down into a ready pose and the crowd around them cheers as Genji gawps like a landed fish.

“Hanzo!”

Hanzo strips off his borrowed shirt and tosses it to the side. 

“ _Hanzo!_ ” Genji shouts, sounding scandalized. He runs over to the shirt and grabs it. “Put some clothes on.” He shakes the shirt at Hanzo.

“It will just be in the way,” Hanzo explains.

“ _Anija._ ”

“I said, ‘fight me.’”

“Fine!” Genji snaps, tossing the shirt over his shoulder. “And when I win, you will put your shirt _back on_.”

“And when I win?” Hanzo asks. A small grin starts at the corners of his mouth. “Will you do the opposite?”

“You’re not going to win,” Genji says.

“Really. My younger brother is so sure of his chances.” Hanzo beckons Genji forward with a hand.

“ _Yes_ ,” Genji growls. “I am.” He leaps forward then dodges left, hoping to surprise Hanzo. He’s a little wild in his haste, swinging too far, and Hanzo knocks him to the side. Genji stumbles in surprise, then swirls as he regains his composure. He tries again, this time to the right, and Hanzo dodges underneath his arm and slams his palm into Genji’s torso, forcing Genji backward.

The crowd is cheering around them and a giddiness is bubbling up inside of Hanzo. This is the first time that he’s ever had someone cheer for him as he has fought. Before, it was always just his trainers and him.

He rather likes it.

Genji’s next attempt is more cautious, more reliant on his training. Hanzo counters only to have Genji return the blows and they exchange a flurry of hits before separating again. They circle each other, then lunge in again.

Back and forth they go, each time, the look in Genji’s eyes gets a little more serious. They are evenly matched, it is obvious, and Hanzo feels joy in that fact. For all of Genji’s alphaness, Hanzo, an omega, can hold his own. They maintain their give and take until Hanzo can feel a slight tremble of exhaustion shaking his extremities, can see the same in how Genji has to shake out his hands. Both of them have slowed tremendously from their opening volley. 

Their fight will end soon. If Hanzo intends to win, then he needs to do so now.

He ducks under another of Genji’s swings and rapidly pounds his fist against Genji’s side three times, knocking the air out of him. Genji staggers, clutching where Hanzo’s blow had landed, and Hanzo allows him only a moment to catch his breath before pressing the advantage. He knocks Genji back with a few blows of his hand and a knee to his center and, when Genji attempts the same charge as his ox, Hanzo flips him neatly over a hip and onto the floor.

Hanzo lightly presses his foot against Genji’s throat. “Do you yield?” he asks. Genji grabs Hanzo’s foot as if contemplating continuing before he sighs and lets himself go lax against the floor.

“You win,” he says.

Hanzo grins and holds a hand out to pull Genji back to his feet.

Genji groans as he stands again, pressing a hand against his side. “Your fists feel like bricks.”

“I can’t believe someone beat the ninja!” a man in the crowd says, his voice standing out from the general roar of cheers.

“Yeah, another ninja,” another responds. 

“You going another round, Shimada?”

Genji shakes his head.

“No, his brother beat him into the ground!” a voice says with a laugh.

“Well,” a familiar voice drawls, “I only caught the tail end of that, but I gotta admit, it was damn good, sugar.” Hanzo spins around and easily spots the cowboy hat. 

“Jesse.”

“Managed to get off easy.” Jesse scratches the back of his neck. “On account of you and your brother going at it. About the whole damn base came to watch.” Shock zips through Hanzo and he glances around, just know noticing that the crowd is indeed much bigger than it was, with people filling not just the floor, but the upper level walkway as well. Leaning against the railing, he spots Commander Reyes standing beside a blond haired man that Hanzo swears that he has seen before.

On TV.

He brings his eyes back down to Jesse. “It was quite the show,” Jesse says. 

A weary smile crosses Hanzo’s face. “I could face you in the ring next.” The more he thinks about it, the more he wants to. With Genji’s defeat, Hanzo has claimed a clear victory over an alpha. Jesse would be another challenge for him to conquer.

Jesse, however, chuckles and holds up his hands. “Whoa, there sugar. I don’t need my ass beat like that.” Hanzo blinks at him for a moment, before the English fully translates that Jesse is admitting his defeat before they even start and a kernel of warmth grows inside of him. “I mean, you want to do something a bit more private-like in the bedroom, that’s fine,” Jesse says with a wink, “but you kicking my ass across this room? I worked my way up the chain so I don’t have to do that no more.”

The meaning of Jesse’s innuendo hits Hanzo like a slap and a flush crosses his cheeks. He looks away, trying to regain his composure while Jesse winks again.

That. That would be something interesting. To explore later.

Together, he and Jesse make their way out of the center of the room, heading for the door. Where they are going, Hanzo isn’t certain—possibly to his cell again—but they are stopped before they get there.

“Got a minute?” Reyes asks from the upper walkway. His blond companion melts away into the crowd as Reyes beckons Hanzo and Genji up the stairs. Hanzo and Genji share a look before ascending, with Jesse following. “Got a proposal I’d like to discuss with you,” Reyes says.

“And what is that?” Genji asks, as upfront as ever.

Reyes looks out over the railing at the main floor below. “Looks to me like there are more than a few that could use a little touch-up on their skills. You interested?”

“In teaching?” Hanzo asks.

“You want us to beat up your people?” Genji adds, reinterpreting Reyes’s words. He glances over at Jesse who raises his hands in surrender.

“Not me,” he drawls. “I already had that conversation with your brother.” Genji eyes Jesse suspiciously before Reyes gets his attention again.

“I’m saying that there is something that you can offer that we need. And it could maybe be a business arrangement.”

“Are you offering us a job, Commander?” Genji asks, smirking.

Reyes shrugs. “Maybe. You accepting a job?”

Genji looks down at the floor, then to Hanzo. Hanzo nods. It would be more freedom. That is acceptable in Hanzo’s book. “Yes,” Genji replies.

Reyes nods. “And you?” he asks Hanzo.

Hanzo nods as well.

“Excellent,” Reyes says. “Welcome to Overwatch. Jesse will get you the paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” Genji asks.

“Wait, I’ll what?” Jesse jerks around to face Reyes.

“Seeing as how you’re making yourself so helpful these days,” Reyes tells him, his voice full of insinuation, as he starts to walk off.

"Wait!" Hanzo calls, pushing past Jesse to stop Reyes before he disappears into the crowd. Reyes pauses, turning halfway towards Hanzo. "Our... Our father. What of him?" Beside Hanzo, Genji's starts. 

Reyes looks at Hanzo for a long moment. "He'll be informed about your choice. If that's what you want."

"If that's what I want?" What does that mean?

Reyes shrugs. "Might have escaped you, being here, but you don't have to run everything by Sojiro anymore." Reyes turns more fully towards Hanzo. "Unless you want to."

Hanzo's breath catches in his throat, paralyzed by the thought of disloyalty to his family, of not following through on his duty to his family--and by the idea of having neither matter anymore. Before he can find his voice again, however, Genji steps forward. "So we can contact our father?" he demands.

Reyes glances into the crowd, then back to Genji. "There's restrictions. But sure."

"What do you mean 'restrictions'?" Genji asks. 

Reyes holds up his hand and starts listing using his fingers. "Supervised. Secure line. It's dangerous to contact too often."

"Dangerous?!"

"There was a coup, kid," Reyes says, rolling his eyes. "Yes. It's dangerous." 

"If it is so dangerous, then why are we here?" Genji demands. 

"Protection," Reyes answers shortly. 

" _Whose?_ "

"Thought you might have figured that out," Reyes says and starts to walk again. "Come see me later."

"Wait, damn it," Genji shouts. He lunges forward but Jesse catches his arm. "Let me go!" Genji seizes Jesse's wrist and pries it off of him.

Jesse shakes his head. "Boss said find him later. Think you'll find him more cooperative then." Genji tosses Jesse's hand away. "Catch more flies with honey." 

"What does that mean?" 

"It means," Hanzo says in Japanese, stepping forward, "that rashly angering people is not a wise course of action." 

Genji snarls impatiently and spins around to put his back to Hanzo but he doesn't attempt to follow Reyes. 

"Well," Jesse says awkwardly. "I guess there's some paperwork to fill out. Welcome to Overwatch." 

Hanzo’s life has taken some odd turns but this, he thinks, is truly the oddest. He wonders if it is lucky or not.

* * *

Genji’s latest student groans on the floor, more from frustration than pain after having been put on his ass yet again. Genji demonstrates a hold again. “Grab and twist,” he says. “Yes?”

“Grab and twist,” the student repeats, picking himself up.

“Yes. Very good. Now practice.” Hanzo smirks. Genji is impatient. The reason is a certain blonde alpha in her white doctor’s coat watching him from the upper walkway.

Hanzo had finished with his last student ten minutes ago. Werner is more diligent about his lessons than Mallory, which is good because between the two of them, Genji is the by far the one with more patience. If Mallory were being trained by Hanzo, he would likely have more than a bruised behind by now.

Two months and life no longer seems strange. It isn’t because his life isn’t strange—Hanzo is working for Overwatch of all things—or Blackwatch which is his official designation—but more because after awhile strange seems normal.

A life of training Overwatch agents isn’t bad, Hanzo thinks. He regularly gets to put opponents of all types into the floor. And though he and Genji are not allowed _off_ -base, they are allowed their run of the place, which is a small win. It is hardly different than Hanzo’s life back in Hanamura.

Except there is no Father to disapprove of his actions, just a world-weary and battle-ragged omega who rolls his eyes and sighs at the fact that Hanzo is regularly sleeping with one of his underlings.

And Hanzo will take it. A few sighs of disappointment is a small price to pay for the likes of Jesse. Speaking of said devil…

“Hey there, darlin’,” Jesse drawls as he swaggers up. “You, uh, want to go get some coffee?”

Hanzo suppresses a smile and keeps his eyes on Genji. “I don’t drink coffee,” he replies.

Jesse waves a hand. “Tea then. I know you fucking drink tea.” Hanzo finally favors Jesse with a glance towards him and Jesse smiles. “Come on, darlin’. Don’t make me have to beg.”

“But you do it so nicely...” Hanzo turns to face Jesse fully.

“Just cruel to treat a man so.”

“You like it,” Hanzo tells him confidently and starts off towards the cafeteria.

“Oh yes I do,” Jesse replies and catches up to him so that they can walk side by side—yet another thing that had taken Hanzo some time to get used to but, now that he has, he can say that he likes it.

A male omega is said to bring good fortune. For the first time in his life, Hanzo finally thinks that maybe—perhaps—that might be true.


End file.
